[OOC] Mass Effect: Caelestis

[Heat]

6’10? I know who I’m picking first in a pickup game.

[Spoopy Scary]

<Snipped quote by Spoopy Scary>

Sabinus be like



Also, he uses a bidet, because he's not a savage.

Or maybe turians poop tidy little cubes. Mysteries of the galaxy!

@Dervish

We all know that birds and bird people shit out fast-hardening greek yogurt.

[Hank]

At last, I have done the thing.

Delilah Reed

_{DELILAH REED
33 ⟁ FEMALE ⟁ HUMAN ⟁ ADEPT}

_{A P P E A R A N C E}

---

Fairly typical for a human female in the 22nd millennium, Delilah Reed measures 5’7” (170cm). Less typical is that she clocks in at only 110 pounds (50kg). She lacks both the toned athleticism of hard living or the healthy fat of good living because of her chronic health problems, which sees her perpetually thin and mildly underweight. If one were to get the chance, they would be able to count each of her ribs individually. Delilah’s elbows and knees jut out of their respective limbs as hard nubs of bone and the tendons on the back of her hands stand out like the wireframe on a dismantled mech. She never had much in the way of curves, but she knows that there are plenty of people who are attracted to such slim figures and isn’t uncomfortable with her body. Aside from her weight, the only other remarkable thing about Delilah’s body was that she was born with significant internal birth defects as a result of in-utero exposure to dust-form element zero, and received a series of surgeries and gene-therapies to fix her organs and arteries. The drastic and invasive interventions she required have left her with faded but still visible scars on her abdomen, chest and back. She learned to live with these a long time ago and they don’t bother her.

It was her face that was always the prettiest and most pristine part of Delilah’s body, the part she cherished the most. A grievous and traumatic injury suffered in combat with batarian pirates put an end to that, and meant that the Alliance Navy’s surgeons had to stitch it back together. They did a remarkable job, restoring beauty to her piercing pale blue eyes, elegantly arched brows, full, rosy lips and high cheekbones, with only some surface-level scarring across her skin to betray their handiwork… but they got some of the details wrong. The shape of her eyes, the height of her eyebrows, the prominence of her chin. Even her hair, worn swept back out of her face with the sides shaved in a popular Terminus Systems style, didn’t grow back the way it was, and one of her locks of hair is white instead of black. It’s a face that Delilah no longer recognizes as entirely her own. A familiar stranger stares back at her in the mirror.

_{H I S T O R Y}

---

Delilah’s birth on Earth in 2151 was preceded by a series of starship accidents in LEO that scattered dust-form element zero across large areas of the planet. Unfortunately for Delilah, her mother was one of the pregnant women that were exposed to the strange material. She was born suffering from multiple organ failure as a result, and given only hours to live. But her father, even if he was only a small-time businessman with modest means, was determined to give her a real chance. He refused to let his daughter die without putting up a fight. Their entire live savings were spent and a crack team of surgeons and specialists was flown in to attempt to save the infant. They worked tirelessly around the clock for days and ultimately succeeded: Delilah’s condition was stabilized and her organs were kickstarted back to life, but her health remained delicate for reasons that even this team of experts could not explain. They found strange growths in her body, embedded deep within her tissue, that the surgeons had not seen before, but since the masses appeared to be stable and inert it was decided to leave them there. Surgically removing them all would be too much of a strain on the young infant’s body.

Over the course of her entire youth Delilah was kept away from other children, sequestered away in the safety of sterile hospital rooms and long-term care facilities, with nothing but her mother, an assortment of nurses and an endless stream of holonet shows to keep her company. When nobody was watching, driven by her curiosity and boredom, Delilah would experiment with her extranet terminal and over time learned how to tap into other data streams and holonet frequencies, listening in on random communications and dreaming about a life outside the confines of her room. Her father worked day and night to fund his daughter’s extensive medical care and to pay for the medications she needed to keep her organs going, but as she approached puberty the money began to run dry. That was when Conatix Industries knocked on their door.

Founded specifically to track down those children that were exposed to element zero in-utero, the company representatives explained that they wished to test Delilah for biotic potential. Her parents, ever-protective, were difficult to convince of the necessity and refused to believe the argument that biotic children were dangerous. When Conatix offered to pay for all of Delilah’s medical care, however, it became an offer they couldn’t refuse. She was examined and the strange growths were finally identified as element zero nodules. Delilah was one of the rare few who developed both birth defects and eezo nodules during her time in the womb. In fact, it was almost as if her body had sacrificed her health to grow more and more nodules, for she had more of them than almost any other child examined and tested in the upper 95% percentile for potential biotic power. Eager to see what such an aberration could do, Conatix Industries not only took over the financial responsibility for Delilah’s care, but also promised her parents that the biotic implants they were developing should help with her health problems, which they blamed on the unregulated interference of the eezo nodules.

And so Delilah Reed was officially selected her for the BAaT (Biotic Acclimation and Temperance Training) program. Suddenly she was shipped off to Gagarin Station at the arse-end of the solar system, ripped away from the comfort and familiarity that had been her whole life…. but also from all of its boredom. On one hand she was eager for the new experiences the program would undoubtedly bring but on the other hand she was terrified. That the station was cut off from the extranet and contact with the homefront was forbidden didn’t help. For the first time Delilah was surrounded by her peers and she found it difficult to communicate with them. They were all so brash and loud and reckless in her eyes and she was afraid of some of them almost as much as she was afraid of the instructors.

The less said about her time in the BAaT program, or ‘Brain Camp’ as the children called it, the better. It was a horrific, grueling slog that frequently pushed her weak body to its limits. The L2 implant she was fitted with partially did what had been promised -- it helped to control the effects of the eezo nodules on the rest of her body and she felt better than she ever had before. Additionally, her biotic powers proved to be formidable as Delilah, used to meditation and focus to deal with the pain she was constantly in, took to the neuro-control training quickly and to her own astonishment became able to manipulate the world around her with nothing but her mind. But L2 implant turned out to be unstable, and actually activating the eezo nodules in her body to use her powers brought back all of her previously subdued health problems with a vengeance. This would induce nosebleeds, pain, fatigue and even mess with her mind, provoking aggressive outbursts from the normally timid girl. When pushed to the limit, as the turian instructors were wont to do, it even caused her organs to shut down. As she remained one of the most powerful biotics in the program, the human scientists who acted as overseers refused to remove her, even when she required emergency surgery to restart her once-more failing organs. She was too ‘promising’ to call it quits, she was told. But other children who struggled, whose biotic powers were not as powerful as hers, were left to die when they succumbed to the strain. Every time Delilah was put on oxygen or taken out of an exercise to spare her, the resentment of the others grew and she became even more of an outcast. More than once, Delilah wished she was dead.

Slowly but surely her proficiency increased and she was able to utilize her powers for longer and longer without succumbing to pain and fatigue, and on a good day Delilah was one of the most powerful biotics in the facility, the turians included. The program was unceremoniously shut down after one of the students killed one of the instructors in a violent altercation and Delilah, by then 18 years old, was shipped back to Earth. Overjoyed to see her parents again, Delilah was shocked to find that Conatix Industries had instilled a fear of her in her parents that never really went away. They treated her differently now, distant and wary, where they had always been full of love and warmth before. It broke Delilah’s heart. Meanwhile, Conatix Industries folded, only ever a front for the Alliance, and Delilah was approached after a few months by an Alliance recruiter -- they were interested in recruiting the survivors of the BAaT program for the military. Not thinking clearly and desperate to get out of her family home, Delilah accepted.

Receiving a waiver for the physical fitness requirements and bootcamp, Delilah was processed at breakneck speeds and deployed to an Alliance frigate patrolling the Skyllian Verge as soon as possible. As eager as the recruiter had been, so hesitant and distrustful was her new commanding officer. Human biotics were still new and ignorance and superstition abounded, and he had no patience for her chronic health problems. Instead, she was attached to a unit of marines. During the handful of instances when she saw action, Delilah’s biotic powers probed strong enough to crush enemy soldiers against the dirt and grind their bones to splinters, but it required energy that her body simply did not possess. She would become extremely irritable and insubordinate in the state of exhaustion, pain and disorientation that followed. A whole cabinet full of expensive medications and supplements were necessary to keep the biotic warrior functional and she failed to integrate with her fellow soldiers just as much as she had failed to integrate with the other children at Brain Camp. Using her powers too much would also trigger the mental instability of the L2 implant and Delilah became prone to bizarre and frightening outbursts, fugue states and episodes of self-harm. Where she had once believed that her biotic powers were a blessing that would free her from her sheltered life, she finally realized once and for all that they were nothing more than a curse. Just like everything else about her body.

These problems came to a head during one of mankind’s first notable skirmishes with the batarian pirates that roamed the Verge, and Delilah’s body and powers failed her at a critical moment during the protracted firefight. She and her unit of marines had been close to being overwhelmed while protecting a remote settlement on one of the colonies and Delilah had been instrumental in holding the line, throwing enemy soldiers away and crushing them against the ground, when exhaustion got the better of her. Her biotic barrier flickered away seconds before a frag grenade exploded practically in her face. While her body was mostly protected by her armor, her face was shredded by the shrapnel and her eyes blinded in the process. Defeat seemed inevitable and the marines withdrew, dragging the unconscious Delilah with her. Back aboard the frigate, the medics and surgeons of the fleet painstakingly put her face back together while she was held in an artificial coma. After five days of surgery the work was finished and Delilah was gently coaxed out of her coma. Or at least, that was the idea.

She shot out of the coma like the bullet from a gun and threw the surrounding nurses and attending doctor against the walls of her room with a biotic scream that shattered glass and ruptured eardrums. But when the navy armsmen stormed the room, expecting to find a rogue biotic, all they found was bewildered girl sobbing and crying apologetically while the medical staff picked themselves back up from the floor. Nobody was killed but some were seriously injured, requiring surgery of their own to restore their hearing and their sense of balance. Alliance higher-ups descended on the incident and it was swiftly covered up and swept under the rug as an equipment malfunction. It was in nobody’s best interests to paint a picture of biotic soldiers as unstable and dangerous. But it was also in nobody’s best interests to keep Delilah in active service.

She was ultimately medically discharged, after just six months of service and three months of paid administrative leave. The Alliance promised to help her find gainful employment in the civilian world but Delilah quickly found that those were empty words, and like so many other biotics she was left out in the cold. Alone in the world -- the relationship with her parents could not be repaired and she was an unwanted pariah even among her fellow Brain Camp biotics -- Delilah came close to ending it all a few times, staring in the mirror and not even recognizing her own face anymore after the surgeons had put it back together. However, she found motivation and determination in the strangest of places; her extranet shows. If the heroes and heroines of the programs she watched could overcome the odds, why couldn’t she? Biotic powers be damned, she had other talents too. Delilah used the remnants of her signup bonus and back pay to afford transport to the Terminus Systems and disappeared from the grid for good, turning her back on the Systems Alliance entirely.

Her childhood experimentation with communication systems and data streams came in handy and after weeks of desperate soliciting with ship captains at the docks of Omega, the drell master of a transport freighter took pity on her and gave her a job as a junior comms specialist on his ship. Overjoyed with this first personal victory, something she had achieved all on her own for once, Delilah took her work and the training she received from the more experienced senior comms specialist aboard very seriously. She kept her true nature as a biotic hidden from everyone except the ship’s doctor -- there was no getting around that, but the kindly older woman agreed to keep Delilah’s secret for her -- and diligently worked every waking hour to master her new craft. She learned how to socialize and made friends for the first time in her life, at last free from all the suffering caused by her biotic powers. As long as the L2 implant was left dormant, it did a good job at suppressing her health problems and the horrifying episodes of disassociation remained a thing of the past.

And so the years went by. Delilah found inner peace and self-confidence and when the drell captain eventually retired, she was ready to tackle the galaxy by herself. Delilah hopped from ship to ship, having become a fully-fledged comms specialist in her own right, and served with distinction on every crew she was ever a part of. She even worked as a vessel traffic controller for Omega’s spaceport for a few years. More recently, Delilah has found employment with a certain asari captain on a certain ship, functioning as her yeoman and comms specialist, and the deep dark of the galaxy awaits...

_{P E R S O N A L I T Y}

---

Delilah’s personality has been shaped by the trials and traumas she has had to overcome during her life and a complicated soul lurks behind her pretty blue eyes. By nature, Delilah is a kind-hearted, daydreaming romantic, but the little girl she once was has clad herself in hammer-forged armor of cold steel. Delilah’s history of abuse and abandonment suffered at the hands of family and institutions has instilled a deep sense of wariness, almost to the point of paranoia, and a powerful desire for independence. She is slow to place her trust in people and quick to dismiss them as unreliable. She appreciates friendships, but her idea of friendship is a lot more casual than most people’s. An intensely private person, Delilah no longer shares the secrets of her past with anyone and keeps everyone at arm’s length, content with a few drinking buddies to shoot the shit with and a partner or two to share her bed with.

Her complicated relationship with her nature as a biotic has given her a great deal of self-loathing to work through, especially after the incident when she awoke from her coma, and Delilah is deathly afraid of the danger she can be. She’s not shy about standing up for herself but she diligently avoids situations that could lead to violent confrontation, lest she be tempted or forced to utilize her biotic powers again. Taking lives in military combat didn’t bother her, but losing her mind afterwards did. She still has nightmares about the near-psychotic breaks she went through and spends a large part of her free time immersed in the fictional lives of characters in the extranet shows that she watches. Keeping up with them is almost a religious activity for her as she believes that it helps her stay out of trouble, and every day without trouble is another day without having to face the monster in the mirror -- the biotic killer that grins back at her with a face she doesn’t recognize.

Like so many people who have gone through deep suffering, Delilah’s wit has taken on a dry and caustic tone and she frequently engages in gallows humor. She can be sweet on occasion, but most of Delilah’s informal interactions with others are drenched in sarcasm and good-natured ribbing. Of course when she needs to be professional, she is, and Delilah is a diligent worker that’s always at her station when she needs to be and takes pride in a job well done.

_{A B I L I T I E S}

---

• Slam
• Pull
• Throw
• Warp
• Barrier

_{E Q U I P M E N T}

---

• Omni-tool customized with signal-boosting and decryption-enhancing modules that improve its ability to send, receive and break into digital communications.
• Light armor suit for hostile environments and emergencies. Every spacer has one.
• A simple M-3 Predator pistol that she’s never fired before. Currently taking up space in her locker.
• Her mind. Don’t underestimate it. Don’t provoke it, either.

_{S T R E N G T H S & W E A K N E S S E S}

---

• Delilah is a capable biotic, powerful enough to kill a man without firing a single shot. She can throw people across rooms, slam them into the ground, shred their bodies with raw biotic power and shield herself against bullets. That she has no extensive combat experience and no skill with conventional weaponry doesn’t make her any less dangerous.
• In addition, she’s smart and resourceful, and takes to new skills and knowledge quickly. She enjoys problem-solving and analysis; a remnant of her childhood spent indoors and without friends to play with. You need to stimulate your mind somehow.
• Her most obvious weakness is her physical condition. Delilah has chronic health problems that, while mostly suppressed by the L2 implant in its dormant state, still require some medications to deal with and she remains perpetually underweight. Her constitution and endurance suffer significantly as a result.
• For all of Delilah’s biotic power, she is extremely reluctant to actually use it. Doing so weakens her physical condition even further and induces all kinds of psychological problems. She cannot maintain biotic strength for very long and needs time to recover between each use, or she runs the risk of falling seriously ill and/or losing her mind.

_{G O A L S & R E G R E T S}

---

• The holy grail of Delilah’s life would be earning enough credits to find some salarian or asari genius neuro-biologist who can cure her of her physical ailments and safely upgrade her biotic implant to something more stable, but that is a pipe dream for the time being. Her real goal of finding somewhere to belong like a completely normal person is even further away from being realized.
• Most of Delilah’s regrets are centered on things that were outside of her control -- she wishes she was never exposed to element zero, never been subjected to Conatix Industries’ tests, never sent to Gagarin Station, never been blown up in combat. She has been fixing the consequences of these events for years now, but most of her bitterness is focused on the actions of other people that ruined her life before she had any agency over it in the first place.

[Scrivener]

Wow check out this height comparison chart of everyone's characters. Sorry Scrivener, had to use the average batarian height in place of Von.



Anyway, how do they all toast their bread? Drink their coffee? Cream cheese or butter their bagels? Set their toilet paper over or under? Inquiring minds want to know.

@Spoopy Scary

No problem at all. After all, “all Batarians look alike”, RIGHT??? (Japes for days.)

[spicykvnt]

I’ll start reviews tonight in time for posting tomorrow.

I also need to do my sheet; and the first IC.... Busy meeeeee!

[spicykvnt]

Sabinus

41 ⟁ Male ⟁ Turian ⟁ Soldier

A P P E A R A N C E
________________________________________

Image property of Archangel7021 https://archangel7021.deviantart.com/favourites/64102932/Turian-Markings

Sabinus is a typical turian in height and stature, standing at 6’05” (182cm) and weighing around 208 pounds (94 kilograms), he maintains a strict military-style fitness regimen where he exercises every day, schedule permitting. As such, under his brown-grey carapace is a fit and lean individual that can still keep up with soldiers two decades his junior.

Compared to other turian facial markings, Sabinus’ tattoos are much more subtle being of a white-grey colouration that covers the entirety of lips and a rectangular patch on his chin up until the bottom of his nose and the start of his cheeks following along the length of the fringes on either side of his head, and the entirety of his nose branching off into a trident on his brow, and unmarked eye sockets. Within the light colouration nest a distinctive pair of intelligent and thoughtful sea-green eyes peer out like ponds on a sandy shore. His metallic carapace is pitted and cracked like most turians, giving his body a very rough appearance in contrast to other species, barring krogan.

A distinctive feature of Sabinus’ face is the bottom portion of his right mandible is missing, a stark reminder of the dangers of combat as he received the wound from a sniper while on deployment. He also earned another bullet scar inches from his heart from the same engagement

H I S T O R Y
________________________________________

Born in 2143CE on Palaven to Quinnus and Atia Tannyx, both professionals in decidedly different fields. His father was a historian for the 16th Legion and his mother a member of the hastatim, the anti-insurgency “execution squad” that enforces order across the various turian colonies. As such, it was drilled into Sabinus from birth an appreciation and respect for both the proud history of turian civilization and the paramount importance of civic order, prompting him to apply himself in his studies as a youth to prepare himself for a climb up the meritocracy, honing both his body and mind in anticipation of his 15th birthday where he would begin his period of conscription.

While admittedly average in most fields, Sabinus’ dedication and innate ability to grasp concepts and be flexible in his approaches prevented him from getting stuck in the same stagnant rut as some of his peers and rivals attempting to position themselves for a favourable future. While not a particularly popular child, Sabinus maintained an air of levity and a good-natured approach to life that nevertheless endeared him to his peers and made him a well-liked team member across the numerous team exercises that the turian children were often drilled in.

Sabinus was only 14 when the Relay 314 Incident occurred, alarming the young turian, who was just about to enter the service. This was the first contact scenario since the turians were brought in to fight the Krogan Rebellions, and before that, the Rachni Wars that had in turn brought the krogan into galactic civilization. Although neither of his parents were called into active service due to both the short duration of the conflict and their respective positions within the Hierarchy, a very real concern had taken hold of Sabinus about being sent straight from training into war with these new aliens.

While his fears never materialized and a peaceful resolution was reached being the Citadel Council and humanity, Sabinus nevertheless found equal parts intrigue and fear about the humans that had given the turian fleet a bloody nose with a shocking defeat. He resolved that he would study the newcomers and prepare himself for being the vanguard against their future aggressions. With a new resolve and that goal in mind, Sabinus set his sights on joining the special forces and headed into his period of service with renewed vigor and determination.

After a rather typical basic and infantry training course where Sabinus had managed to cross the threshold into the top third of his class, he was attached to the 17th Marine Legion as a fresh recruit into the ranks where he was a model soldier, never complaining and maintaining a high level of initiative, prompting his commanding officers to recommend him for leadership training. It was around this time that Sabinus’ resolve in the meritocracy had begun to see its first cracks when word of violent suppression by Hierarchy forces lead to high civilian and suspected rebel casualties on some of the more troubled colonies in protest of the human menace.

Disgusted to find that his own mother had been responsible for being one of the pivotal figures in the crackdown on Oma Ker, Sabinus felt there had to be a better way forward that wasn’t so severe. It was one thing to study turian military history and see casualty numbers and percentages in the text, presented as something to be proud of, but seeing it put into practice against people who may have been grossly misguided but nevertheless still citizens put down mercilessly left a pit in Sabinus’ stomach. Turians were known for being prideful to a fault, but at what cost? He resolved he’d find another way and lead by example.

During the leadership training, Sabinus was criticized for being overly cautious and electing to commit to a fighting retreat and regroup in a fireteam on fireteam training exercise that had prompted him to prolong the skirmish for several hours, ultimately losing two of his ten squad members while utterly defeating the enemy fireteam, which pressed the attack when they felt they were at the advantage. While Sabinus’ team was ultimately victorious, his commanders were torn on his methodology; outside of the evident victory, he could have secured it prior to his retreat at greater risk, but it would have prevented the enemy from regrouping under a more experienced officer.

Defending his actions, Sabinus declared that wasting lives left less soldiers for the next fight, be it a new offensive or securing the position. He refused to commit troops to a battle that would all but guarantee heavy losses if a better alternative existed, and that those under his command deserved better than to be expended like game pieces. It wasn’t a position that was widely appreciated by those up the chain of command, but it was one that endeared his fellow candidates to him when operating under Sabinus’ command.

Deciding that a life as an infantryman wasn’t going to work out and he wasn’t likely to see the promotions that would enable him to begin making changes at a regimental level, Sabinus finished off his leadership training and quietly applied for a transfer to the military police, which was accepted without much fanfare and within a few short months was posted to Digeris, finding police work to be much more in line with what he wished to see out of the Hierarchy, although it itself wasn’t without its problems, but it was something he could work with.

While his concerns about humanity lingered, enough problems persisted on Digeris that demanded most of his attention, and the focus on peacefully resolving conflicts and minimizing loss of life appealed to Sabinus, who quickly rose through the ranks until he became a sergeant in one of the capital’s precincts, his combat arm training eventually lending itself to becoming a member of the city’s emergency response unit. Commendations came naturally with the job and Sabinus earned a reputation for being a calm and reasonable voice that could defuse salvageable situations and a hard hitting, no-nonsense strike leader in situations where decisive tactical maneuvers were required, such as bomb threats and hostage situations.

One such situation became a pivotal moment in the turian’s life, and nearly the end of it, when a vacationing group of humans were taken hostage by the same sort of anti-human malcontents that Atia Tannyx, his mother, had put down years before, putting Sabinus in a situation that required him to attempt to rescue the same people he’d grown up wary of at the best of times, and deeply concerned about the rest. When negotiations fell through, Sabinus’s team assaulted the resort, killing the hostage takers and beginning to extract the human hostages. While escorting them to the safety of the armoured vehicles that had acted as a barricade, a hidden sniper’s shot rang out, piercing Sabinus’ helmet and ripping part of one of his mandibles from his face.

Scrambling to cover the humans, another shot entered through his back, missing his spine and his heart, but puncturing one of his lungs in the process, incapacitating the strike leader but ultimately saving the hostages’ lives before the threat was neutralized. Quick acting medical personnel saved Sabinus’ life, although it was a long road to recovery, even with the best of asari and salarian medical expertise, forcing the turian to endure multiple trips to several state of the art medical facilities to save his collapsed lung and regrow the lost tissue.

For the next six years, Sabinus remained on modified duties behind a desk until the clock passed his 30th birthday, completing his mandatory civil service period. Retiring from the force in 2173CE, Sabinus was left without a clear purpose or direction in life as he recovered from his near-fatal injury. Deciding to make the most of his time at home to keep his mind busy, he turned cleaning into a military-like discipline and began to develop something of a green thumb as gardening became a major hobby of his. While he did his best to keep his mind occupied, his separation from the service had begun to take his toll; being outside of a unit and without a clear sense of purpose, the turian suffered through a bought of depression and listlessness that robbed him of a sense of self-worth and drive, a lingering animosity lingered towards his injuries.

It was perhaps fortune or fate that a message arrived in his terminal from the very people he saved during the hostage rescue, stating that they had looked for Sabinus for years without much luck due to the government’s insistence of protecting the identities of their operatives. This remained true for the couple until contact was made with Sabinus’ former commander who pointed the family in the right direction, making a decision off of the official channels due to his belief that the request was genuine and that Sabinus probably could use some reminder that what he did was honourable.

Wishing to thank him for his sacrifice and giving them a second shot at life, the humans invited Sabinus to Elysium to their estate to at least try to give some measure of thanks to the turian that saved their lives. Having nothing holding him back and a sense of obligation, Sabinus accepted Marshal and Lucy Lamond’s invitation and chartered a ship to the alpine human colony out in the Attican Traverse. Little did Sabinus know at the time, but his month stay would end up being a defining moment his life and far more meaningful than he would have ever expected when he agreed to the offer.

Without knowing what to expect from human culture, at this juncture in Sabinus’ life his suspicions of humans had largely eroded in light of field experience and shifting political climates towards the galactic newcomers, who seemed to adapt readily to just about everything; it was only about a decade since they made first contact with another alien species and now they were regular fixtures on the Citadel and making the most of their new connections. Parts of humanity reminded Sabinus of the Volus thanks to their shrewd business-minded acumen and abilities to work around imposed restrictions to turn their circumstances to their advantage.

Sabinus was certain that whatever politicians offered several Traverse worlds for colonization thought they were making a clever joke given how dangerous the region was, but humans jumped at the opportunity with alarming enthusiasm, somehow both defying expectation and enraging the Batarian Hegemony in one shot. One of the crown jewels of these new colonies was the one Sabinus was invited to and there was a certain amount of trepidation about visiting a human world after a lifetime of distrust and apprehension of the species. What he wasn’t expecting was that he’d enjoy it to the point he would move there to start a new life, finding the break from the Hierarchy that he didn’t realize was stifling him.

Receiving gratitude for actions that had simply been expected for being a turian was a novel and slightly uncomfortable sensation for Sabinus, but he was nevertheless appreciative of the opportunities he was offered, the Lamonds using their networks to get him a security position at the city’s spaceport, which was in need of alien officers to deal with the increasing traffic from Citadel space. He maintained a close friendship with the Lamonds during his time on Elysium and he found the human populace to mostly be kind and agreeable, as well as being far more even handed with how they handled trouble. Workplace promotions and bonuses were something he had no idea existed, and it was clear that humans on the whole tended to value individuals more so than the collective, which required something of a shift of perspective for Sabinus. A few sour encounters with prejudiced humans only helped him to finally erode what lingering distrust he had for humanity as he could see the person he used to be in those individuals and he understood now how irrational and petty it was.

After hearing about the geth and Sovereign’s attack on the Citadel and the subsequent fallout, Sabinus decided to the closest thing to active duty he could manage. While Elysium was comfortable and his security position had enough interesting situations to keep his mind sharp, he found himself missing the structured and disciplined turian lifestyle and a sense of adventure began to take root. Sabinus felt that he needed to prepare for a war that might be coming to defend the homes he’d grown to love, and he needed to understand the threats that had struck the biggest blow to galactic stability since the Krogan Rebellions. He had been around for 4 decades and yet there was still so much of the galaxy that was unknown to him. It was perhaps fate or good fortune that the name Caelestis crossed his desk, a chance to venture off the beaten path and find out what was out there. Deciding that it was a risk worth taking, Sabinus reached out to Naryxa Kesir to offer his services as a chief security and intelligence officer.

P E R S O N A L I T Y
________________________________________

Sabinus is an agreeable individual and an effective leader, caring about those who serve with him and his friends and their physical well-being. He is a flexible individual who looks at the big picture and tries to find the best way to accomplish his goals while minimizing risk, to which end he often will seek council with his comrades to count on their experiences and knowledge to fill in the gaps he may not have considered. Having something of a hybrid turian and human perspective on life, he carries this over into any job he takes on where he combines the flexibility and adaptability of human doctrine with the rigid discipline and overwhelming show of force of the turian doctrine to handle situations where diplomacy has failed. He is willing to change tactics and approaches to situations if one way doesn’t work, preferring to use his team like a toolkit to find what works rather than a blunt instrument.

Maintaining a friendly and compassionate personality, Sabinus cares greatly for his team and mission, and as such maintains an air of optimism and determination that acts as a reassurance for those whose hope may falter in light of several months of bleak survival and diminishing supplies or other seemingly insurmountable obstacle. He leads by example and takes pains to understand those he works with, only exposing them to areas outside of their comfort zones if all other options are extinguished. His turian training shines through in the darkest of times, and his unflappable disposition under fire and ability to make split-second decisions is an inspiration to his fireteam. It’s important for him that everyone makes it home at the end of the day.

Recreationally, Sabinus is a gardener and he likes to work with his hands on big projects with the eventual goal to build T himself a home by hand using the wilderness’ natural resources and grow a garden with seeds from back home. He isn’t much of a drinker, limiting himself to one or two drinks at a time, and he is still an avid sportsman, keeping himself physically active and immersed in the community where possible. He isn’t one for getting involved in the politics and despite his personal opinions, he thinks everyone has a role to play in making things work, even if they can’t exactly agree on methods. So long as people stay in their lane and don’t try to micromanage his job, he’s more than happy to extend the courtesy.

A B I L I T I E S
________________________________________
• Concussive Shot
• Fortification
• Cryo Rounds
• Adrenaline Rush
• Fragmentation Grenade

E Q U I P M E N T
________________________________________
•
M-55 Argus Assault Rifle
•
Lieberschaft 2180 “Evicerator” shotgun
•
Elanus Risk Control Services M-3 Predator Heavy Pistol
•
Kassa Fabrication M-23 Incisor Sniper Rifle

S T R E N G T H S & W E A K N E S S E S
________________________________________
• Disciplined under pressure
• Empathetic leadership
• Martial outlook and conditioning limits consideration of other options
• Limited technical ability

G O A L S & R E G R E T S
________________________________________
• Goal: To understand the nature of the threat the galaxy faces, Sabinus does not believe the attack on the Citadel was an isolated incident.
• Regret: Giving so many years of his life and sacrificing his body to a government that viewed individuals as expendable, and himself for having a part of himself that misses it.

@Dervish

Hi @Dervish

Really happy to see Sabinus on another outing again, and I appreciate how you've made some tweaks, changes, and updates. I think that's just indicative of how your writing has changed and improved since I last saw him.

I like how grounded he is. That he's stable, and also his empathy which I think will come along handy on this trip - it's a character quality that is always needed.

I like the history, and the attention to detail that you pay - flexing hard on your general ME knowledge. He's a very well fleshed out character, and I can see that you're excited to revisit him as well. I am interested to know what makes Sabinus tick - he's a very easy-going, down-to-earth character with an easy, level personality. I would like to see you push him past those limits of comfort, and hopefully we can get to a point in the RP where that can happen.

I'm excited to see how he grows this time around, the choices he'll make, the things he'll do, and the relationships he'll form.

Congrats, please move him to the character tab - Sabinus is accepted!

[spicykvnt]

Maya D. Carter

Maya Davidia Carter 34 ⟁ Transwoman ⟁ Human ⟁ Nurse/Medic ................................................................................................

A P P E A R A N C E Maya Carter is a very mousy soul, she has the appearance and demeanor of a librarian - despite being a mere cook. It's a mixture of her glasses, and more subdued presence - a quiet person that rarely, if ever, raises her own voice but she shows a more bubbly side from time to time. However, Maya's gender is a bit... ambiguous, much to her chagrin. Probably the first thing that people notice about Maya Carter is that she's a really tall person for a female (and a human). She stands at six-two, and she's pretty skinny, with very few curves if any - a very boyish frame with broad shoulders. Her voice is a bit deep, but fortunately, her facial features are at the very least androgynous. This is all because Maya is transgendered, transitioning after puberty. Maya has embraced her own idea of femininity, even if she isn't nor ever will be conventionally attractive. In an attempt to reach this ideal, Maya has dyed her hair a pink color and let it grow out a lot. It goes past her shoulders and it's curly, afro-textured, and very well maintained by Maya. She, from time to time, she braids a flower or two into her hair. Now Maya descends from African-Americans, and a mess of different Spanish cultures (She believes that she's part Brazilian, Mexican, and Columbian). It's hard to tell her race because her facial features don't give any cues (Her thick lips and skull-shape are more African than anything), and she has very light skin. All most people see is that she's black and then they call it a day.

Now, as stated before, Maya is very tall and somewhat skinny - well, not completely skinny because she has a bit of body fat on her. The lifestyle and occupation that Maya lives don't really require that she be in tip-top shape, and due to hormone replacement she packs on fat a bit more. She tries to keep the excess body fat off, but she has a bit of a belly but it doesn't do anything gross like sag. She also has body fat on other parts on her legs, arms, calves, behind, and breasts - which is pretty much the only thing padding out her curves. People notice that she keeps her body covered up at all times, even in warmer environments. That is because Maya is covered in whipping scars and other old wounds from her time as a slave. They're all over her body and they are ugly, and the young Maya would rather keep them hidden.

_{H I S T O R Y}

---

Maya was born and raised on a space ship, she never felt the natural earth underneath her feet until she was much older. Her parents (and their parents) didn't agree with the Systems Alliance or the Citadel and wanted a life free from alien influence. Thus, they lived as traders that went from place to place in the Terminus Systems trading goods (and smuggling in some cases). It was a difficult lifestyle, given that they were under threat from slavers and pirates. They managed to come up with their own ways to deter pirates and avoid conflict as much as possible. Now again, Maya wasn't always Maya... she was known as Dudley Carter.

Dudley always felt that something was wrong, that his body was maybe not made for him. However, the young Dudley kept to himself and he was generally put to work moving boxes like the rest of his family. He was raised by his mother who also taught him, but he generally grew up alone with little contact from people of his own age. Between school and the work, he barely had any time to really explore these feelings, and any behavior seen breaking the norm was not welcomed. He just kept these feelings in as he had a mild interest in things that were seen as feminine, which evolved into an obsession. Dudley's family was pretty healthy and he had a great relationship with his parents even if they found his behavior odd at times. The colony was beautiful, and he had plenty of other children to play with... until it all came crashing down.

They were attacked by pirates who quickly overwhelmed the family and enslaved them all. Thus, the young Dudley spent a few years of his life as a slave for this pirate group, as his family was sold off to other groups in the Terminus Systems. He was kept around for the menial tasks that the pirates didn't want to do like cleaning and cooking. These few years were absolute hell for Dudley as he was just barely kept alive to serve them and was abused. This was where Dudley realized that his family had a bit of a point not wanting anything to do with aliens. However, the pirates raided a colony in the Attican Traverse that was under Citadel control and the Alliance Navy retaliated and raided the ship. Alliance Marines utterly trounced the pirates and they finally broke the chains around Dudley.

However, he was simply brought under Alliance custody and placed in an orphanage in one of the larger, more prosperous, colonies under the System Alliance's oh so watchful eye. He never had to worry about being enslaved again, fortunately, and thus he was allowed to finally allowed to heal from that awful, awful, experience. Dudley was finally allowed to explore himself as well and realized that wasn't his identity, being a teenager at this point. The colony was a lot more open than Dudley's original place and he started using female pronouns and eventually, he went to a special doctor. Then he got the proper drugs prescribed to him and went through the procedure of changing his name.

And that was the death of Dudley and the birth of Maya Carter.

As Maya; she wanted to help people and avoid that tragedy that happened to her so many years ago, so when she came of age she tried to enlist in the Alliance Navy. However, it was discovered that she has a bit of PTSD from her time as a slave and she couldn't pass the psychological evaluation. This was a bummer at the time but Maya didn't give up and decided to attend college, but this wasn't exactly ideal as an orphan with no money. The options were becoming more and more limited as Maya eventually took a job as a secretary in a doctor's office - One that she found out was a front for a Cerberus operation. Cerberus members would get hurt and they would come there to be discretely patched up and given an official cover. Maya was afraid at first, but then she found out about the opportunities.

Through this doctor, Maya was recruited into Cerberus as a medic. She was taught all the ways to patch up the Cerberus operatives that got injured. With Cerberus, Maya thought that she was helping people, but she quickly found out that she was just another pawn in the Illusive Man's game. That they were just a disgusting terrorist group, despite all the great things she heard about them - and all of her own xenophobia. That was when Maya had enough, took all of her things, and disappeared without a trace - they came looking for her but she fled into the Terminus Systems.

Probably the most obvious place for a deserter but Maya put her skills that she learned under Cerberus to good use as a freelance contractor. She worked under a doctor under the guise of a nurse for the longest and she's... seen some shit. Eventually, Maya took a job for an Asari Captain for a shady operation... while she was hesitant, it was a quick and easy way out of Omega - and they would give her free food and a place to sleep.

Sounded like a good deal, right?

_{P E R S O N A L I T Y}

---

Despite it all, Maya attempts to make the best of things and put on a smile on her face. Despite more or less a back-alley doctor for a bunch of criminals, mercenaries, and other thugs, she has some exceptional customer service, so to speak. It's a mixture of genuine kindness and some remnants of her past trauma as a slave - putting on a smile made them beat her less. Maya realized that she had a tough life and that she's unlikely to work past it but damn she's going to try. Maya is cheerful and kind, making sure to treat everyone with respect until they prove they don't deserve it. That's usually how she is on the job and is one that isn't afraid to make conversation with people. Off the job, or if it's not necessary, she's a bit quieter and more focused on the job.

Maya is a hard worker and is the kind of person that's better kept busy or else she'll begin to go a bit crazy. She prides herself on being the most efficient and productive person and she doesn't really have a lot of patience or care for somebody who isn't. While Maya isn't the confrontational type, she isn't above throwing passive-aggressive or snide comments someone's way. Definitely will give someone a hard time if they think that they're better than her due to arbitrary reasons. Maya has a sharp tongue but saves it for the right occasion, or the right idiot. Maya has a good sense of humor and is usually sarcastic and making teasing comments towards people - provided that they are on board with it.

However, Maya has a lot of past trauma to work through despite her best interests and is the kind of person that has a hard time dealing with stress. Maya usually shuts down if faced with an issue that she cannot immediately solve or one that takes her out of her own comfort zone. Because if she cannot solve it on her own she'll attempt to avoid it altogether. The woman has a lot of trouble with dealing with other races, or "aliens" she insultingly refers to them as. She was born in a xenophobic community that was ultimately proven right when Maya was kidnapped by Batarian slavers and enslaved for several years of her life. Maya doesn't like aliens, nor does she like dealing with them, but she knows that to survive out in Terminus she has to swallow her pride. Ultimately, she has learned to keep her distance from such aliens.

Maya is realistic and down to earth, and while she tries to put on the facade of cheerfulness, she can't help but tell people the grim truth. She also attempts to be a moral, kind-hearted, person because she feels some deep regret for helping Cerberus. She feels as if she can make up for it by helping people but she knows many lives were indirectly ended due to her skillset. Maya was misled and now she tries not to be so naive and trusting.

_{A B I L I T I E S}

---

• Medic.

_{E Q U I P M E N T}

---

• Special-Medical Omnitool: One that she was given during her time in Cerberus and it can do everything a regular Omni-tool can do. However, it can scan a being's vital signs and dispense Medi-gel.
• M-3 Predator: Maya knows that she has to protect herself and thus she got herself a pistol. An M-3 Predator is as standard as pistols can get, but it's pretty versatile and well-rounded.

_{S T R E N G T H S & W E A K N E S S E S}

---

• Medic: Very skilled at applying First Aid, even if it's best suited for humans. She can patch someone up really well and keep them in the fight. Even aliens from time to time.
• Shoulder to cry on: Maya is a very good listener and tries to understand people and let them vent to her. Due to her own tragic past, she's understanding.
• Lack of combat experience: Maya only kinda knows how to shoot a pistol and against someone who knows what they're doing, well, she better get the drop on them.
• Xenophobia: Maya is very distrustful of aliens and is more likely to believe a shady human over a well-standing alien. Also, her medical knowledge starts and stops at humans.

_{G O A L S & R E G R E T S}

---

• To help people out.
• Maya regrets joining Cerberus and keeping terrorists alive, it haunts her conscience to this day.

@The Ghost Note

Hi @The Ghost Note

I'll preface this by saying there's a lot to like about Maya.

She has some really interesting aspects to her personality. You haven't been afraid to really push those more negative traits that serve to make a character feel real and dimensional.

I like her history, I like that her skills only really stretch to humans. It's realistic and interesting for our setting.

A few things I've noticed, however. You mention in the appearance section that she is a cook - but it's not brought up again, and you switch to medic. Was this intentional?

Her goal is also very vague - I'd like to see something more specific to her. I think you can find that by just going over your sheet again, and thinking about the character some more.

I love the concept, and Maya is accepted - however, I'd like to see you just give the sheet another once over, to see if you can find an element that will elevate the character a little bit more - cross all of the t's and dot all of the i's.

I'm going to be making a Discord, so feel free to hop in there and we can brainstorm there as well :)

[spicykvnt]

Iryk

_{Iryk
5 ⟁ Male ⟁ Vorcha ⟁ Sentinel}

_{A P P E A R A N C E}

---

An image of the frighteningly obsidian hued Vorcha

Vorcha have perhaps the widest range of phenotypes of any sapient species of the Milky Way, but it would nevertheless be an accurate statement to call Iryk atypical. In total mass he is noticeably larger than most of his racial kin having sinewy bulk approaching a Krogan. However he is shorter than them owing to a hunch from top to bottom of his back that leaves him at about two thirds of his hypothetical height; with his hunch he is about 150cm, whereas if he were to straighten out his spine in its entirety he would be far more than two metres. Alas, his back is now fused into its current shape and as such when he wants to intimidate he can only muster about 190cm.

His skin is rough, a well muscled black material reminiscent almost of carbon fibers. His eyes are likewise a shade of black wherein one cannot find the pupil, and very notably his body is covered in many small hooks, studs, spikes, and little plates resulting from his life's adaptations much like the rest of his physique. Many of these spikes are retractable both to assist in maneuvering and in butchering. If one pays close attention they can see bumps and scar tissue where his implants are, but the contours are difficult to make out on black flesh.

_{H I S T O R Y}

---

The discovery of Heshtok - homeworld of the Vorcha - is a recent one to the international community. The persistent violence of the people there lead many to see no interest in doing business anywhere near the very system, but many also saw an opportunity. The lack of official recognition for the Vorcha made them prime prey for quasi-legal slavery operations, and a young Vorcha by the name of Iryk was one of many victims of such a practice.

He was transported to a mining world, the corporation administrating the work there finding his race's adaptability and short lives leading them to be much more disposable than humans, asari, and other races with simple access to unions. With the introduction of Vorcha slaves into labour the company's profits soared and very soon the number of Vorcha slaves on the planet outnumbered those of all other races combined. As more and more of his kin were brought in, Iryk started his race's process of adaptation to his environment. He became dark, hunched, resistant to the elements and his skin turned almost into a chitinous carapace with hooks in to do anything from weathering tunnel collapses to ascending and descending pits unaided by technology or even wrestling with the cockroach like monsters infesting the mines.

But as this transformation began the overseers of his mine noticed very strange things about him. He performed many of his tasks more efficiently than even older, fully adapted Vorcha and after tests for Eezo it was no trouble to determine that he was a biotic. Given the infancy of the Vorcha in the galactic stage proper research upon them was not yet done, but that did not stop corporate leaders looking to boost profits from trying to use experimental implants upon them.

Irtyk was given preferential treatment, him and other biotic Vorcha planned to be managers of their own kind; slaves that ruled the other slaves in exchange for a life approaching that of a free man. He learned to speak, read, and write properly along with a standardized core of science, technology, engineering and mathematics. With his enlightenment he made relationships beyond that of work with some of the tutors and doctors he met. Many were genuinely trying to aid the Vorcha and they soon came to see each other as friends. Yet, his newfound knowledge also lead him to realize the full magnitude of what horrors were being done to his people. It did not take him long in his short breaks to find the pyres where the corpses of his kind worked to death were laid.

There were many more collaborator Vorcha like him, and they started to meet in their breaks. They talked, they planned. They earned more and more trust of their overlords, getting firearms supposedly to take down occasional riots or the many beasts that dwelled on the world. They earned keycards and passwords, they got personal vehicles. The planning was cut short when rumour came of instruments and weapons being developed specifically against the Vorcha in case of an uprising. This told the plotters that they had no more time, and as such they got to work. Having built rapport with their underlings be it by intimidation or with good leadership they knew their amassed resources had the manpower to truly make use of them. In the night they came upon the other settlements of the planet and they burned them to the ground. Many tried to flee the vicious wrath of the Vorcha but for every mining outpost these were in the single digits, these people oft maddened until their last days speaking to reporters of the evils and crimes against life that the obsidian Vorchas would inflict in their vengeance

They hijacked whatever spacecraft they could and flew across the stars. From that point on the history of Iryk mirrors that of most other Vorcha. Those early developmental experiences of his life lead him to know nothing of life save intrigue and plots to kill, and along with his former comrades he could foresee no life save that of the mercenary. After many lesser jobs hunting and then ripping apart anyine fron law enforcement to rival criminals Iryk felt he was readu for greater tasks. It is thus that for his fearsome and savage reputation Iryk found himself hired aboard the Caelestis as something between security and contract killing.

_{P E R S O N A L I T Y}

---

Outwardly Iryk markets himself as naught more than yet another Vorcha; a rather daft but obedient (as long as he's either paid or intimidated) butcher. But he likes to think of himself as much more. He knows of the many concepts so alien to him from the ideological and religious variance of the Citadel races to their odd rituals of mating and etiquette. He can speak as the finest Asari diplomat should he so please, but he is ever frustrated having to hide this lest he be turned in to authorities or bounty hunters as one of the biotic leaders of the disastrous Vorcha uprising he helped lead. As a rule he does not very much like other species, but he is also more than conscious that there are exceptions to the rule of their highborn smugness and arrogance that he experienced on the only home he knew, the related traits easily driving the Vorcha into a maddened frenzy on their exhibition. Though he knows much of other reaces, he often finds it difficult to understand why they are as they are, particularly in matters like morals and sensibilities coming at odds with practicality and utilitarianism such as eating the dead.

Iryk is more than capable of kindness and compassion contrary to the stereotype of his race, but he will never show it unless given it first and as such there are few if any candidates for his benevolence. Though he will still speak with the primitive sentences of many of his other kind he will work very professionally with those he is partnered with, and he will have a particularly good attention to and knowledge of any contract he is currently on which he will follow to the letter and not more or less (save bursts of sadism).

_{A B I L I T I E S}

---

• Decryption
• Throw
• First Aid
• Bloodlust
• Carnage

_{E Q U I P M E N T}

---

• M-97 Viper (modified for a shorter optic scope to be more a battle rifle than a true sniper)
• Flamer - a wrist mounted weapon integrated (but not synonymous) with his omni-tool, it is a a devastating weapon for ranges that are close but not quite melee.
• Omni Tool - though its formal use as a weapon is not yet commonplace in the Galaxy, the Vorcha is happy to use its many functions from wrench to welder in purposes both for which it was designed for, and ones far more vicious and violent.
• Bodysuit - Though the skin of the Vorcha is already rather functional as armour and a hazardous environment suit, its still not often enough (especially in the true vacuums of space). He will almost always have it on given it is tailor made for him being a composite of an old mining suit, pilots suits, armours, and other bits looted off of the dead — it would be rather difficult to get pre-made suits that fit others onto his frame. Most of it is kept inside and away from innocent nostrils, but to those who come into hugging range of the Vorcha will be assaulted by its awful smell.

_{S T R E N G T H S & W E A K N E S S E S}

---

• Adapted Biology: strong, fast, tough, and augmented with implants the body of Iryk is ready for whatever challenges may be thrown at it.
• Engineered mind: Iryk has a deep alien cunning, far more educated than many of his kinsmen. If a test was taken he would even be nearly a standard deviation above average in Citadel race societies; he can speak eloquently in many voices, albeit to most he chooses to speak in the typical Vorcha syntax to hide what is within his head.
• Sadism: While he won't explicitly seek out violence for the sole purpose of causing hurt, any task he does he will try to do it in a manner such that he will inflict as much suffering as possible. Though this gives him great pleasure and soothes his mind, it will more often than not lead to him wasting time, alerting his presence to others in the vicinity, and otherwise hurt him. Likewise, these elements of his fractured mind will naturally make more or less anyone he is with save other Vorcha and some Krogan to be very distrustful of him at best.
• Odd Physiognomy: Iryk is a rather large being contorted into a hunchback provoking far more disgust than most Vorcha already do. This form has helped him at times, but in general it limits his methods of hiding into simply curling up into a compact ball and hoping his dark flesh will keep him unnoticed. Likewise though such a form helped him navigate the mine tunnels and rocky slopes of his earlier life he has at many times found his shape to be a curse when it comes to traversing the interstellar world; he cannot fit into any ventilation shafts, no armour designed for ordinary bodies fits him, and software rarely if ever recognizes him as a humanoid, often mistaking him as some sort of rabid animal or at times even as an automaton.

_{G O A L S & R E G R E T S}

---

• Iryk wants to insure that his people can make a living in the galaxy at large and to insure no more of his kind will be taken advantage of as he and many of his brothers and sisters were. Quite simply put he wants health, wealth, and happiness.
• When the slave rebellion was at its peak it quickly morphed from a conflict of liberation to one of vengeful extermination; in the end, many humans, Drell, Turians, Krogans, Asari, Salarians and others who were kind to both Iryk and other Vorcha met undeserved, and very painful deaths that journalists inevitably reported upon in graphic detail. This would attack Iryk's psyche from many angles: it vindicated thebelief of other races that Vorcha were savage vermin, it it would make the race untrustworthy to the galaxy and thus counterproductive in the quest of the race's growth, and quite simply many of those fallen Iryk had started to consider friends who's deaths he is responsible for. This event more or less broke the mind of Iryk creating the much more vile Vorcha crawling through space now.

@Andreyich

Hello!

This is a fantastic sheet, imo.

I like how you've written in some of the political information on the Vorcha through your history - you've given a good, reasonable foundation to Iryk that makes him really easy to understand, and also to feel sympathy for - to the point I'm actually overlooking his violent nature a little, ha! Super clever, and nicely succinct as well.

I think he's a risky character, he's potentially volatile, in a situation which will absolutely get volatile for... Most of it. But he's not without his redeeming features, you didn't go overboard in one direction or the other.

I'm really happy for Iryk to get a place in the RP.

[spicykvnt]

Satka Yual

_{Satka Yual
47 ⟁ Male ⟁ Drell ⟁ Civilian doctor}

_{A P P E A R A N C E}

---

The Drell doctor stands roughly 178 cms in height with a lean frame. His skin is a light blue in its complexion, with doubled eyelided black eyes with white inner eyes. His features are masculine with distinct frills going down the back of his head. Scarring is evident on his face from an incident he does not like to discuss. Smiles are a rarity on the doctor's face but another distinct feature he possesses is his blue lips, almost vibrant in their coloration. A few other scarrings mark Satka's body below his face, a healed burn notably dotting his right upper forearm. While his left shoulder holds a long healed bullet wound from an unfortunate encounter with some of the galaxy's rougher citizens. He lacks any tattoos or the like, the scars he bears from a rough doctor's life being Satka's distinguishing features.

The civilian dresses in plain colors, his style simple but sharp. He'll often wear collared dark shaded shirts with a long coat akin to a human doctor's jacket. On his lower half he wears comfortable pants with firm black boots. Satka as a noncombatant does not own armor, his plain clothes offer little in the way of protection to hazards. Though he does own a jumpsuit with a respirator helmet for zero gravity, non oxygen filled emergency situations.

_{H I S T O R Y}

---

Satko Yual was born on the Hanar homeworld of Kahje which also serves as the new home of the Drell. His parents were both simple working Drell, his father a bodyguard for a prominent Hanar politician while his mother was a police officer. As such the young Drell was raised in a strict household where he was one day expected to serve in a similar capacity to his parents. This push by his family may have been what ultimately led Satko down the path he chose, a total opposite of a martial lifestyle. His uncle Thulna would serve as an extremely influential figure to the young Satko, instilling a firm belief in the Drell's religion upon the boy. Through his own spiritual discovery Satko would pledge to help others, beyond his homeworld. He enjoyed life on the peaceful Kahje but dreamed of seeing the greater galaxy. The compassionate Drell would save up his credits in order to finance a shuttle offworld to the Citadel. This voyage would be the last time he'd see his family which took him some time to process.

Upon his arrival to the Citadel the Drell would get involved with a charitable organization, Pax Medicam that brought medical aid to those in need throughout Citadel space. It was Satko's first true glimpse into his future as he worked aside some of the kindest most efficient doctors on the Citadel. He'd see different worlds during his time with the group, visiting them to deliver supplies or help the wounded. While he had no scholarly medical training his five years within the organization gave him extremely valuable real world experience. Still the spiritual Drell did not feel as if he was doing enough. He'd heard tales of the unforgiving Terminus systems where orphans walked the streets of Omega and refugees died without hope. Satko was cautioned by several within Pax Medicam to not go on such a journey. The Terminus Systems chewed up and spit out hope filled young men like him like they were nothing. Nevertheless he hopped on a shuttle to Omega and began the next phase of his life, filled with desire to help those greatest in need.

Upon his arrival to Omega the Drell was stricken by the conditions the most downtrodden lived in, the tales he'd been told had been more than true and it hit the hope filled Satko hard. Still he pushed on, first searching out a medical clinic on the brutal space station to begin his work. He'd find it in the form of a Batarian doctor, Obrank Garkakk who had a heavily makeshift hospital on Omega. Dr. Garkakk was exactly the type of doctor one would expect to find on Omega, money was what he valued more than anything else. Satko was hesitant to work for such a man but his options were limited as a newcomer with little in the way of credits to his name. He would work side by side with the Batarian, finding the gruff man to be a skilled doctor even if he lacked much in the way of people skills. The Drell did believe the doctor was kinder than he'd let on to as he'd sometimes let the most unfortunate of people receive care at reduced prices. The clinic was occasionally besieged by gangsters which were the most terrifying days for Satko. He'd frequently dive behind cover while shots filled the crude hospital. It was one element of the Terminus systems he'd never truly get used to. Satko even had to patch up Garkakk after the Batarian took a shot to his leg, a true test of the skills he'd picked up on Omega.

The Drell would work for Dr. Garkakk for almost four years, then he'd decided to move on his own and begin his own clinic in another part of Omega. Satko began by officially stylizing himself as Doctor Yual, taking inspiration from his mentor Garkakk in how he conducted business. Though he was even kinder with negotiating deals with the most vulnerable and beaten. Early on in his solo work he found himself approached by the Eclipse, a notorious Terminus system mercenary band with a place on Omega. They offered him a deal, protection but only if he committed to patching up their people, none of the other mercenary bands. Desperately needing the protection he cautiously accepted the deal, stipulating that his priority was to help the most downtrodden on the space station. His alliance with Eclipse would be a savvy move which brought in more needed security and credits to his clinic but he despised the idea of working with such wicked individuals. It was something that never sat right with him but he needed to deal with it until he could afford to pay for his own security.

Satko earned a reputation as a kindhearted doctor who rarely ever turned away patients, even if his connections with the Eclipse scared away some. As the years went by he grew upset with the presence of the gang in his clinic. The final straw was when he discovered they had been stealing medical supplies from him and selling them on the black market for outrageous fees. The good doctor immediately severed the deal with Eclipse, hired his own security then felt much happier about his living on Omega. A paranoid thought did float in the back of his mind that Eclipse would return with vengeance, they'd never truly respect the decision to cut ties with them. But for some time it seemed no such event would occur. Satko focused his efforts on helping those most in need, frequently offering free service to those that needed it the most. Such an idea seemed preposterous beforehand on Omega. During this time he'd also fall in love with one of his nurses, a beautiful human woman named Kara.

As Satko's clinic flourished he pushed to expand operations, opening more, smaller clinics across Omega. He'd even began to plan to acquire ships to deliver supplies across the Terminus Systems to those most in need. With Kara and his dream coming to fruition life seemed too good to be true. In a way this line of thought was correct. As his esteem grew on Omega so did desire to move against him. Attacks against his clinics increased, forcing him to close some of them and hire more security. He suspected the Eclipse, or rival doctors jealous of his deeds. The most striking moment was when he received a report of his mentor's clinic being bombarded, with Dr. Garkakk slain in cold blood brutally. This incident tore deeply into Satko but he still persisted onward.

This changed roughly one year before his arrival aboard the Caelestis. As he walked into his main clinic on what seemed to be a routine day an explosion suddenly ripped through it. The doctor watched as patients and staff were crushed by debris or incinerated in the blast. As he crawled out of the rumble he watched as Kara was gunned down before him by a mercenary clad in the distinct Eclipse armor. Satko did not meet the same fate as his lover, he was left alive in a heap of sorrow to suffer through witnessing his life's work torn down before him. Flames filled his clinic as it burnt the ground, reverting to ashes like so much did on the unforgiving space station. As he held his dying love in his arms tears poured down the Drell's face.

Omega had beaten him.

Doctor Yual managed to pull himself away from the wreckage of his dream. He'd discover his other remaining clinics had similarly been hit. Everything he cherished had been completely defiled and destroyed. The person he cared the most about was wordlessly slain before him, killed like a common nobody on Omega. Satko stowed himself away, for some time he just left Omega and wandered as he tried his damnedest to find meaning. To find a way to push through shattered dreams and persevere. With nothing else going for him he took a job for an Asari captain traveling towards a strange planet.

_{P E R S O N A L I T Y}

---

Doctor Yual is a calm minded figure with a compassionate heart, a combination which has brought him trouble in his time in the Terminus systems. Nevertheless he has continued to hold a passionate want to help any in need, regardless of their race or socioeconomic standing. He is avoidant of conflicts as he does his best to patch up both physical and emotional wounds. When in a conflict situation he'll often just simply dip out, drop it entirely and move on with things. While smiles now rarely break onto the Drell's features, laughter is even rarer. He'll often crack bad jokes to bring smiles onto the faces of those he's helping. Satko has a soft spot for children, seeing far too many orphaned youth on the streets in his travels through the Terminus systems. He only really cares about monetary regards when its a need. His credits go towards medical supplies or charity when he is able to donate.

One thing that is noticeable about the good doctor is that he rarely ever speaks of himself or his past. Internally he is a broken man, destroyed by the Terminus Systems and the wretched which live in it. If one asks about his past dealings the Drell will often provide simple answers with little peek into his past. It is partly due to the fact that he does not enjoy going over his past due to painful decisions and incidents in it but also due to the people he's often surrounded by, the scoundrels of the galaxy. He has no one in the way of friends, the ones he once considered that are dead which he blames himself for. He finds it difficult to have personable conversations where he's expected to interject with his own experiences. When he puts on the role of a therapist Satko will give quality advice and put on and friendly face. He sees it as another way to help people, to fix them up emotionally and is happy to do it so long as he's not the one spilling about themselves. In general he is a withdrawn, introverted figure due to his own personal issues. Though he does hold an optimistic view on people around him and his own work, even if he himself is very much a beaten man.

Satko like most of his species is a spiritual, religious man. He believes strongly in one's soul, that a wicked person is not truly complete. In a way he sees it as his life's journey to serve Arashu, the Drell godddess of protection by helping others. Healing their wounds and patching their souls. It is something which was instilled to him by one of his relatives and has stuck with Satko even through his intergalactic travels.

_{A B I L I T I E S}

---

• Trained doctor & surgeon
• Informal shrink

_{E Q U I P M E N T}

---

• M-3 Predator heavy pistol
• Omni-tool

_{S T R E N G T H S & W E A K N E S S E S}

---

• Though lacking anything in the way of degree Satka has been practicing as a black market doctor for just over twenty years. He's administered medical aid to people of all species while ensuring he is well versed in matters of biology for practically all known races. He's also frequently done surgeries on different species, giving him a capable and delicate medical hand.
• A more informal part of his life as a doctor is working with a person's psychology. He's often been paid to offer help akin to that of a therapist. An extremely patient man with a vast amount of life experience he's quite good at helping others emotionally.
• Satka is a devoted pacifist, it is quite unusual for someone whose spent as much time in the darker parts of the galaxy as he has but he upholds it. He's seen his share of needless death, he does not desire to add to it. The only way he'd ever do such a thing is if his life is in extreme danger or someone he cared deeply about was greatly endangered. He's in a no way a fighter beyond simple pistol training which serves as a last resort.
• The Drell doctor is a man filled deeply with regret and pain. Much of his private time is spent dwelling on his past failures to point it destroys him internally. Its difficult for him to snap out of these bouts but he always seems to, it just takes time.

_{G O A L S & R E G R E T S}

---

• Doctor Yual's chief goal is to survive his time abord the Caelestis then use the credits he has acquired to start up another, grander clinic in the Terminus systems. There are many downtrodden people that need help, he'd like that to be the mark he leaves on the galaxy. It's worth another shot right?
• The destruction of his previous medical clinic is by far his greatest regret. The deaths of those inside the clinic haunt him daily, it is something he will never truly escape.

@Heat

Hi @Heat

*Wave*

I love this Drell.

I like that there's a lot of melancholy in this story, I like this character a lot, and it feels almost like a little bit different from what I've seen you do before. Everything in Satka's story makes sense, everything adds up and you've put a lot of time and effort into exploring his story. It's a different take on a Drell than what I usually see.

Is it Satka or Satko? There are a few discrepancies in the sheet so I'm not sure - before you post it, just make sure those are fixed ;)

My only other ntipick is choosing pacifism as a weakness. I'm not sure, I think you can find something else because that's almost something that can be both a strength and a weakness, actually. I might move his pacifism into his personality, and find a physical weakness to replace it since his 2nd weakness looks like depressive bouts.

[spicykvnt]

I've been tied up at my computer all day, and I'm probably not going to finish these reviews just now -- I kind of want to do something weekend-y with the last hours of my weekend; so everything will be finalised, my sheet will be done, and IC will be done tomorrow evening.

That gives a few of you some time to finish sheets as well :)

[Mixtape Ghost N]

A few things I've noticed, however. You mention in the appearance section that she is a cook - but it's not brought up again, and you switch to medic. Was this intentional?

@Stormflyx

No it wasn't. I just suck at proofreading.

Her goal is also very vague - I'd like to see something more specific to her. I think you can find that by just going over your sheet again, and thinking about the character some more.

I honestly couldn't really come up with a goal for her other than trying to survive in this crazy universe (and then failing at that and getting subsumed by reapers).

[Heat]

@Stormflyx yeah it was super late when I did the entire sheet and the name slipped my mind a few times. It’s supposed to be Satka. I’ll change it and figure out a new weakness.

[Antediluvixen]

I was planning to make my own RP but you seem to have beat me to the punch, room for one more?

[spicykvnt]

I was planning to make my own RP but you seem to have beat me to the punch, room for one more?

@Monochromatic Rainbow

You will need to have finished your sheet in the next few hours for consideration.

[Nightbringer]

Alright, here we go. Hope it's alright.

Vaan'Hadaal nar Haegro

_{VAAN’HADAAL NAR HAEGRO
33 ⟁ MALE ⟁ QUARIAN ⟁ ENGINEER}

_{A P P E A R A N C E}

---

Like all quarians, Vaan’Hadaal’s true appearance is cloaked in an enviro-suit, and he removes it so infrequently that even he is not completely sure what he looks like, but like most, he decorates himself with intricately-woven cloths; he prefers red and brown hues, but he has been known to sport a fashionable yellow every now and then. He stands at 5’5”, an inch or so above average height for members of his race, and weighs in at 112 pounds, slight for a human of his size, but standard for a quarian civilian.
Vaan keeps his visor set to semi-opaque, as is the standard manner of the Migrant Fleet; only his eyes, reflecting the light from the omni-tool functions in his helmet, are visible most of the time, and he prefers to keep it that way.

On the increasingly rare occasions he would elect to remove his suit, Vaan’Hadaal would generally be considered attractive, though not especially so, with angular features and clear, periwinkle coloured skin. His hair —black, like any quarian— is cropped short, at least it was when he last removed his enviro-suit, as longer locks cause him discomfort in the suit’s snug confines. Across his face and body are streaks of azure blue, most notably running from below his eyes to just above his ear (or the closest thing quarians have to an ear).
Vaan has not seen his own face for some time, having been away from the flotilla for nigh on three years, so there are likely a few more lines and creases on his face than his last recollection, but he does not deem it necessary to check.

_{H I S T O R Y}

---

Born in 2124CE aboard the Haegro, the fourth, and smallest of the four Liveships in the Migrant Fleet, (since partially dismantled to enable repairs on the Chayym, and repurposed as a freighter) the early part of Vaan’Hadaal’s life was the standard fare for most quarian youth. Although he was named for the Haegro, his father was stationed on the Yobra, a Special Projects Vessel on the outskirts of the flotilla, and his work kept him away from his family most of the time. As such, Vaan developed a much closer relationship with his mother, with whom for the first ten years of his life, he was kept in a clean room —a sterilised environment— to minimise the possibility of any infection or disease overwhelming the young boy. In these years, his mother told him wondrous stories of the flotilla, and recounted his father’s deeds to him. Vaan’s father was part of a research team dedicated to the research and development of hyper-enriched element zero, for which there were multitude purposes, though the primary one seemed to be extended and augmented FTL travel; a means to move the Migrant Fleet further and faster than ever before. These stories stuck with Vaan’Hadaal, and they are probably what drove him to become a Propulsion Engineer later in his life.

When he was ten years old, he was fitted with his first enviro-suit, and finally, along with his mother, was able to explore the sprawling beauty that was the Migrant Fleet, and finally met his father, who though loving, was distant, constantly aboard the Yibro, working his days away. The young Vaan’Hadaal followed in his father’s footsteps, and routinely had to be punished for stealing himself into the Haegro’s engine bay to tinker and observe. The engine technicians paid him no mind; it was the Marines that objected to his clandestine activities.
In one fateful incident, Vaan’s tinkering left the drive core operating at less than half its optimum efficiency, and the Haegro was stranded a hundred miles back from the remaining Migrant Fleet. It was only its status as a Liveship, and his father’s insistence, that forced the flotilla to send rescue crew back for it. His father did not lay a hand on him in punishment; lest he risk damaging Vaan’s enviro-suit and condemning the boy to a slow death. Instead, he was sent from the Migrant Fleet early —one of the youngest ever— to depart for his Pilgrimage. He was shuttled down to nearby Ontarom, at the time a relatively newly founded human colony. The young quarian found it difficult at first; the planet’s atmosphere was almost unbearable warm compared to the sleek, sterile confines of the Migrant Fleet; and the Alliance colonists were wary of the boy at first. Eventually, after enough goading and annoyance, the Alliance team allowed the fifteen year old to join them, begrudgingly. He was given menial work, loading and unloading, and ferrying cargo by shuttle from the landing zones to the construction sites. The toil was almost too much; the boy’s slight frame and weak immune system made the manual labour increasingly taxing; when he passed out at the control of a shuttle, and crashed it into a sand bank, the Commander of the station, Alliance Lieutenant Herschel Gibbs made the decision to re-assign him. The Lieutenant couldn’t very well send him away from Ontarom, as the heartless Migrant Fleet had done, so he set him to work in an area that quarians are better suited to: the heart of the research team. Ontarom was to be the sight of a communications hub, but the tidal disruptions from the planet’s dying moon, as well as the frequent electrical storms made the task difficult. Vaan’Hadaal was part of the team that pioneered the use of the cutting-edge “dish field”, which allowed crucial communications from the planet without the interference of magnetic fields. Vaan left Ontarom before the installation, however. He asked GIbbs for the dataclip containing the research data, but the Lieutenant refused; Alliance tech wasn’t for just anyones eyes, though he did manage to smuggle dataclips of incomplete data off-world. However, for his service, Gibbs allowed him to take a shuttle up to the SSV Alamo, a frigate returning to the Citadel.

Vaan’Hadaal found the Citadel too noisy. The Migrant Fleet was home to seventeen million quarians, more than the population on the Citadel, but there were so many people, bunched so closely together; it made him thankful for the relative privacy of his enviro-suit. Still, the cradle of modern galactic civilisation was the perfect place to find what he needed to complete his pilgrimage. His first idea was to study the Keepers; the sentient caretakers of the superstructure, but he found them too sophisticated to truly understand, and he ran afoul of C-Sec during his investigations. He made a series of investigations into the complex VI that served the Presidium, but this time he found no such level of sophistication; quarians had a complex network of VIs running throughout their enviro-suits, some of them significant upgrades to the Citadel’s VIs. It was a struggle to find anything he could really get his teeth into: Citadel technology was either so widespread across Alliance Space, or so closely guarded that N7 and the Council would never give a simple, teenage quarian access to them. He loathed the rigid hierarchy of the Citadel. Of course, the Migrant Fleet had a hierarchy, but it was a meritocracy; captaincy was given to the most senior and the most able quarian on board their respective ship. Everywhere he looked on the Citadel he found inept officials, passing off their duties to their subordinates and hiding themselves behind dizzying walls of bureaucracy. If the Citadel could not fulfil his Pilgrimage then there had to be another station somewhere in the Galaxy that would. Somewhere where there was not so much red tape.

After consulting with every departing vessel, and attempting to convince every captain in the spaceport to ferry him to another port (for no credits, even) he stowed away on a volus merchant frigate bound for the Terminus Systems. If he was caught, he was sure the volus would have no qualms either deserting him on the nearest uninhabitable rock, or ejecting him out into the void of space. He had to keep his wits about him. For a week, he hid in the cargo holds, subsisting on the last of his dextrose paste canisters, and sleeping with one eye open. Eventually, he disembarked on Omega.
Omega was everything the Citadel wasn’t. It was free of the stringent regulation of the Presidium and the clean, whitewashed walls of the Wards. Vaan’Hadaal knew that he would never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy anywhere in the Galaxy, but it was ideal for him.
He was a curiosity on Omega; though Vorcha and Batarians were commonplace, a well-dressed quarian was severely out of place, and though he caught some unwanted attention, he was able to find his way into some unsavoury circles. He ran with the Talons for a time, working for them as something of an engineer; repairing mechs, upgrading omni-tools and the like. It was small-time work for him: even as a youngster he had been conscripted into work details aboard the Migrant Fleet, and the level of technology on the flotilla far surpassed what these cutthroats were using. Still, it gave him an opportunity to get his hands on some of the most cutting-edge tech that could be smuggled out of Alliance Space.
Eventually, he managed to get his hands on something interesting: the Talons had got their hands on Tactical Cloaks, straight from the N7 armoury. They were an interesting piece of equipment, but seeing them in use, Vaan’Hadaal noticed the fatal flaw: the wearers were still visible, at least to anything except the naked eye. Heat signatures and individual magnetic fields could still be identified by non-organic targeting systems. With a few minor alterations, including the addition of a secreted lithium heatsink to minimise the recognisable thermal signature, and a miniaturised version of the dish-field technology that he had worked on while on Ontarom, he was able to rework the simple Tactical Cloak into a fully-realised Invisibility Field. The Migrant Fleet could not possibly turn their nose up at such a breakthrough. While battery life was a concern, as well as the fact that it still could not mask sounds or smells, Vaan was certain it would make for an excellent “gift”. The Talons got wind of his work though, and were not so keen to part with the technology for nothing. Though Vaan was able to buy passage on an Elcor cargo freighter, the Talons caught up to him sooner or later.
It was a brutal punishment. He was stripped of his enviro-suit, and left in a cold, makeshift cell aboard their ship; his withered immune system could not handle conditions on the vessel, and he was soon on the verge of death. It was only when a mutiny happened aboard the ship that he was given a chance of reprieve. The leader of the mutineers, a Turian named Canis demanded his dataclip containing all his work in exchange for his life. Vaan’Hadaal had no choice but to accept, and he was stuffed back into his enviro-suit and sold to an Asari diplomat on Illium.

His time on Illium was unremarkable, outside of the fact that he was in indentured service. The diplomat was good to him, giving him plush quarters and feeding him well, but for the first time in his life, he longed for the Migrant Fleet. He knew he would have to get himself out of the system, as the flotilla did not pass through the Tasale system, or even that close to the Crescent Nebula.
His duties contained little more than the average: cooking, cleaning, delivering letters etc. so in his free time he was free to move around the station, within limits. He used most of his time trying to rewrite the huge bank of data that had been taken from him by Canis. Other than that, he scoured what corners of Nos Astra were available to him, trying to secure passage off the planet. He would either have to buy his freedom (but with what credits?) or flee his master and risked being chased to another star system as he had before.
Eventually, he chose the second option, taking up a position as an engine tech with a Human trader ship, the Acheron, bound for the Attican. They left in the dead of night. The fear of being captured again kept Vaan’Hadaal bound to the engine bay, where he spent his time doing whatever he could to try and keep his mind busy, tinkering with the engine and writing whatever he could remember from his dataclip.
Finally, with the meagre pay he received from his work on the Acheron, he chartered a shuttle back to the Migrant Fleet when the crew docked at Jarrahe Station to refuel. The fleet happened to be passing the system, so he took his chance when he could. The old shuttle was banged up, and could barely fly. It was in pieces by the time he reached the flotilla.

It wasn’t the hero’s welcome he was expecting. In fact, no one seemed too concerned that he had returned at all, save his mother, who welcomed him back with open arms. He had been away on Pilgrimage for nearly eight years, a long time compared to some, and most had forgotten that he existed. His father, as he had always been, was working away on a Special Projects vessel, though he had become weak and infirm, likely due to prolonged exposure to Element Zero.
The Admiralty Board accepted his gift, the unfinished datachip, though it was not as lauded as he had hoped. For the two more years he spent on the Migrant Fleet, it was never mentioned or researched, and he was unable to continue work on it, so it lay dormant with some Special Projects team somewhere on the flotilla.
The Migrant Fleet was not how he remembered. Gone was the wonder and awe that he once had when he shuttled between frigates. It reminded him too much of the Citadel; there was too much order, too much hierarchy. He couldn’t wait to leave again. When the Fleet was passing through the Exodus Cluster, he was ferried down to Eden Prime, to take up work again.
Through the next few years, he hopped from ship to ship, working as an engine tech, munitions officer, or general mechanic. Most of the ships had similar technology to the Migrant Fleet, so he was well suited to it.
This was his life for the next ten years. The ships would dock at the Citadel, Eden Prime, Terra Nova, and every other human colony in Council Space. He would avoid voyages too deep into the Attican Traverse, or anywhere near the Terminus Systems —he could not risk being found by the Talons, or forces from Illium— until 2183CE, while on Eden Prime. Two ships ship docked at the station within a day of each other. The first, a sleek, asari built construct, the Calanth. It was from Illium. The second, a hardy, Human vessel, the Amtar stocking up before making its way out to Omega. By chance they were looking for a new Engineer.
He had a choice. Stay on Eden Prime, and risk the crew of the Calanth learning his history and dragging him back there, or take the job on the Amtar and hope he didn't run into any Talons.
The choice was easy.

_{P E R S O N A L I T Y}

---

Some might call Vaan’Hadaal agelastic. Others might just call him stiff. There is little that will make Vaan laugh. Perhaps it’s from the trauma of his life, or perhaps that’s just the way quarians are.
He is not quick to reveal details about himself or his life, but he is not hiding them either. If people wish to know something about him, they need only but ask. Perhaps his outward demeanour is what turns people off pressing him about his past.
Vaan is likely to consider you a friend long before you do the same. He enjoys the company and conversation of his crewmates, but the lack of laughter might be what makes others think that Vaan doesn’t think so highly of them, when often the opposite is true.

Vaan has been treated poorly by so many people throughout his life that he is not one to give trust easily, as it so often leads to betrayal. The one exception to this, generally, is humans. Humans have been good to him, whether it was Lieutenant Gibbs on Ontarom, the men and women of the Citadel, or the crewmen who ferried him from Illium. When he is surrounded by humanity, he is most at ease.

He is unlikely to spend his free time relaxing. Like most quarians, he has an innate curiosity that tempers his every move. He is most likely to be found in the engine bay, either taking readings or observing the drive core at work. Other than that, he still has a desire to re-complete his works on cloaking technology, though compiling research for a third time would be a galling task, one that he is not so keen to undertake, though he will occasionally take time to try and recount some of the more complex ideas that his research discovered.

_{A B I L I T I E S}

---

• Engineering Knowledge and Improvisation

_{E Q U I P M E N T}

---

• Modified Omni-tool
• H-K Kessler Pistol

_{S T R E N G T H S & W E A K N E S S E S}

---

• Vaan is something of a technological factotum. In his past, Vaan worked on so many varying technologies, that nowadays, he can put his hands to work on almost anything. If you have a problem with something, bring it to Vaan, and he can probably fix it, to a degree, at least.
• He has a high motor, something that makes him a valuable crew member. He can focus on a task for a long time without having to rest, and he rarely sleeps. While this can raise its own difficulties, he is usually appreciated by the higher ranking crew on ships for his work ethic.
• Charisma is not something Vaan could be accused of having. He has a hard time getting people to grow close to him, or even trust him. His quiet, stoic nature makes him a difficult crewmate sometimes, often leading people to frustration.
• Vaan has little awareness of risk or jeopardy. He has put himself in harm’s way so many times in his life, simply by not comprehending the potential danger, or discounting it too quickly. It makes him an effective researcher, but not much else.

_{G O A L S & R E G R E T S}

---

• In the short term, Vaan is searching for a project to really sink his teeth into. None of the work he has ever undertaken has been a real passion project. Ultimately though, he is looking for his real place in the Universe. He felt out of place amongst his own people on the Migrant Fleet, he disliked the coldness of the Citadel, and he was not suited to the criminal lifestyle on Omega. Hopping from ship to ship in the Exodus Cluster was the closest he ever came to true happiness, but even then there was no long term security. For the most part, the Caelestis is a means to an end for him.
• Vaan regrets not having stood up for himself. He has let himself be taken advantage of so many times, placing technological discovery at a higher priority than personal safety. It made life so more difficult than it should have been, and robbed him of so much of his life’s work.

[spicykvnt]

At last, I have done the thing.

Delilah Reed

_{DELILAH REED
33 ⟁ FEMALE ⟁ HUMAN ⟁ ADEPT}

_{A P P E A R A N C E}

---

Fairly typical for a human female in the 22nd millennium, Delilah Reed measures 5’7” (170cm). Less typical is that she clocks in at only 110 pounds (50kg). She lacks both the toned athleticism of hard living or the healthy fat of good living because of her chronic health problems, which sees her perpetually thin and mildly underweight. If one were to get the chance, they would be able to count each of her ribs individually. Delilah’s elbows and knees jut out of their respective limbs as hard nubs of bone and the tendons on the back of her hands stand out like the wireframe on a dismantled mech. She never had much in the way of curves, but she knows that there are plenty of people who are attracted to such slim figures and isn’t uncomfortable with her body. Aside from her weight, the only other remarkable thing about Delilah’s body was that she was born with significant internal birth defects as a result of in-utero exposure to dust-form element zero, and received a series of surgeries and gene-therapies to fix her organs and arteries. The drastic and invasive interventions she required have left her with faded but still visible scars on her abdomen, chest and back. She learned to live with these a long time ago and they don’t bother her.

It was her face that was always the prettiest and most pristine part of Delilah’s body, the part she cherished the most. A grievous and traumatic injury suffered in combat with batarian pirates put an end to that, and meant that the Alliance Navy’s surgeons had to stitch it back together. They did a remarkable job, restoring beauty to her piercing pale blue eyes, elegantly arched brows, full, rosy lips and high cheekbones, with only some surface-level scarring across her skin to betray their handiwork… but they got some of the details wrong. The shape of her eyes, the height of her eyebrows, the prominence of her chin. Even her hair, worn swept back out of her face with the sides shaved in a popular Terminus Systems style, didn’t grow back the way it was, and one of her locks of hair is white instead of black. It’s a face that Delilah no longer recognizes as entirely her own. A familiar stranger stares back at her in the mirror.

_{H I S T O R Y}

---

Delilah’s birth on Earth in 2151 was preceded by a series of starship accidents in LEO that scattered dust-form element zero across large areas of the planet. Unfortunately for Delilah, her mother was one of the pregnant women that were exposed to the strange material. She was born suffering from multiple organ failure as a result, and given only hours to live. But her father, even if he was only a small-time businessman with modest means, was determined to give her a real chance. He refused to let his daughter die without putting up a fight. Their entire live savings were spent and a crack team of surgeons and specialists was flown in to attempt to save the infant. They worked tirelessly around the clock for days and ultimately succeeded: Delilah’s condition was stabilized and her organs were kickstarted back to life, but her health remained delicate for reasons that even this team of experts could not explain. They found strange growths in her body, embedded deep within her tissue, that the surgeons had not seen before, but since the masses appeared to be stable and inert it was decided to leave them there. Surgically removing them all would be too much of a strain on the young infant’s body.

Over the course of her entire youth Delilah was kept away from other children, sequestered away in the safety of sterile hospital rooms and long-term care facilities, with nothing but her mother, an assortment of nurses and an endless stream of holonet shows to keep her company. When nobody was watching, driven by her curiosity and boredom, Delilah would experiment with her extranet terminal and over time learned how to tap into other data streams and holonet frequencies, listening in on random communications and dreaming about a life outside the confines of her room. Her father worked day and night to fund his daughter’s extensive medical care and to pay for the medications she needed to keep her organs going, but as she approached puberty the money began to run dry. That was when Conatix Industries knocked on their door.

Founded specifically to track down those children that were exposed to element zero in-utero, the company representatives explained that they wished to test Delilah for biotic potential. Her parents, ever-protective, were difficult to convince of the necessity and refused to believe the argument that biotic children were dangerous. When Conatix offered to pay for all of Delilah’s medical care, however, it became an offer they couldn’t refuse. She was examined and the strange growths were finally identified as element zero nodules. Delilah was one of the rare few who developed both birth defects and eezo nodules during her time in the womb. In fact, it was almost as if her body had sacrificed her health to grow more and more nodules, for she had more of them than almost any other child examined and tested in the upper 95% percentile for potential biotic power. Eager to see what such an aberration could do, Conatix Industries not only took over the financial responsibility for Delilah’s care, but also promised her parents that the biotic implants they were developing should help with her health problems, which they blamed on the unregulated interference of the eezo nodules.

And so Delilah Reed was officially selected her for the BAaT (Biotic Acclimation and Temperance Training) program. Suddenly she was shipped off to Gagarin Station at the arse-end of the solar system, ripped away from the comfort and familiarity that had been her whole life…. but also from all of its boredom. On one hand she was eager for the new experiences the program would undoubtedly bring but on the other hand she was terrified. That the station was cut off from the extranet and contact with the homefront was forbidden didn’t help. For the first time Delilah was surrounded by her peers and she found it difficult to communicate with them. They were all so brash and loud and reckless in her eyes and she was afraid of some of them almost as much as she was afraid of the instructors.

The less said about her time in the BAaT program, or ‘Brain Camp’ as the children called it, the better. It was a horrific, grueling slog that frequently pushed her weak body to its limits. The L2 implant she was fitted with partially did what had been promised -- it helped to control the effects of the eezo nodules on the rest of her body and she felt better than she ever had before. Additionally, her biotic powers proved to be formidable as Delilah, used to meditation and focus to deal with the pain she was constantly in, took to the neuro-control training quickly and to her own astonishment became able to manipulate the world around her with nothing but her mind. But L2 implant turned out to be unstable, and actually activating the eezo nodules in her body to use her powers brought back all of her previously subdued health problems with a vengeance. This would induce nosebleeds, pain, fatigue and even mess with her mind, provoking aggressive outbursts from the normally timid girl. When pushed to the limit, as the turian instructors were wont to do, it even caused her organs to shut down. As she remained one of the most powerful biotics in the program, the human scientists who acted as overseers refused to remove her, even when she required emergency surgery to restart her once-more failing organs. She was too ‘promising’ to call it quits, she was told. But other children who struggled, whose biotic powers were not as powerful as hers, were left to die when they succumbed to the strain. Every time Delilah was put on oxygen or taken out of an exercise to spare her, the resentment of the others grew and she became even more of an outcast. More than once, Delilah wished she was dead.

Slowly but surely her proficiency increased and she was able to utilize her powers for longer and longer without succumbing to pain and fatigue, and on a good day Delilah was one of the most powerful biotics in the facility, the turians included. The program was unceremoniously shut down after one of the students killed one of the instructors in a violent altercation and Delilah, by then 18 years old, was shipped back to Earth. Overjoyed to see her parents again, Delilah was shocked to find that Conatix Industries had instilled a fear of her in her parents that never really went away. They treated her differently now, distant and wary, where they had always been full of love and warmth before. It broke Delilah’s heart. Meanwhile, Conatix Industries folded, only ever a front for the Alliance, and Delilah was approached after a few months by an Alliance recruiter -- they were interested in recruiting the survivors of the BAaT program for the military. Not thinking clearly and desperate to get out of her family home, Delilah accepted.

Receiving a waiver for the physical fitness requirements and bootcamp, Delilah was processed at breakneck speeds and deployed to an Alliance frigate patrolling the Skyllian Verge as soon as possible. As eager as the recruiter had been, so hesitant and distrustful was her new commanding officer. Human biotics were still new and ignorance and superstition abounded, and he had no patience for her chronic health problems. Instead, she was attached to a unit of marines. During the handful of instances when she saw action, Delilah’s biotic powers probed strong enough to crush enemy soldiers against the dirt and grind their bones to splinters, but it required energy that her body simply did not possess. She would become extremely irritable and insubordinate in the state of exhaustion, pain and disorientation that followed. A whole cabinet full of expensive medications and supplements were necessary to keep the biotic warrior functional and she failed to integrate with her fellow soldiers just as much as she had failed to integrate with the other children at Brain Camp. Using her powers too much would also trigger the mental instability of the L2 implant and Delilah became prone to bizarre and frightening outbursts, fugue states and episodes of self-harm. Where she had once believed that her biotic powers were a blessing that would free her from her sheltered life, she finally realized once and for all that they were nothing more than a curse. Just like everything else about her body.

These problems came to a head during one of mankind’s first notable skirmishes with the batarian pirates that roamed the Verge, and Delilah’s body and powers failed her at a critical moment during the protracted firefight. She and her unit of marines had been close to being overwhelmed while protecting a remote settlement on one of the colonies and Delilah had been instrumental in holding the line, throwing enemy soldiers away and crushing them against the ground, when exhaustion got the better of her. Her biotic barrier flickered away seconds before a frag grenade exploded practically in her face. While her body was mostly protected by her armor, her face was shredded by the shrapnel and her eyes blinded in the process. Defeat seemed inevitable and the marines withdrew, dragging the unconscious Delilah with her. Back aboard the frigate, the medics and surgeons of the fleet painstakingly put her face back together while she was held in an artificial coma. After five days of surgery the work was finished and Delilah was gently coaxed out of her coma. Or at least, that was the idea.

She shot out of the coma like the bullet from a gun and threw the surrounding nurses and attending doctor against the walls of her room with a biotic scream that shattered glass and ruptured eardrums. But when the navy armsmen stormed the room, expecting to find a rogue biotic, all they found was bewildered girl sobbing and crying apologetically while the medical staff picked themselves back up from the floor. Nobody was killed but some were seriously injured, requiring surgery of their own to restore their hearing and their sense of balance. Alliance higher-ups descended on the incident and it was swiftly covered up and swept under the rug as an equipment malfunction. It was in nobody’s best interests to paint a picture of biotic soldiers as unstable and dangerous. But it was also in nobody’s best interests to keep Delilah in active service.

She was ultimately medically discharged, after just six months of service and three months of paid administrative leave. The Alliance promised to help her find gainful employment in the civilian world but Delilah quickly found that those were empty words, and like so many other biotics she was left out in the cold. Alone in the world -- the relationship with her parents could not be repaired and she was an unwanted pariah even among her fellow Brain Camp biotics -- Delilah came close to ending it all a few times, staring in the mirror and not even recognizing her own face anymore after the surgeons had put it back together. However, she found motivation and determination in the strangest of places; her extranet shows. If the heroes and heroines of the programs she watched could overcome the odds, why couldn’t she? Biotic powers be damned, she had other talents too. Delilah used the remnants of her signup bonus and back pay to afford transport to the Terminus Systems and disappeared from the grid for good, turning her back on the Systems Alliance entirely.

Her childhood experimentation with communication systems and data streams came in handy and after weeks of desperate soliciting with ship captains at the docks of Omega, the drell master of a transport freighter took pity on her and gave her a job as a junior comms specialist on his ship. Overjoyed with this first personal victory, something she had achieved all on her own for once, Delilah took her work and the training she received from the more experienced senior comms specialist aboard very seriously. She kept her true nature as a biotic hidden from everyone except the ship’s doctor -- there was no getting around that, but the kindly older woman agreed to keep Delilah’s secret for her -- and diligently worked every waking hour to master her new craft. She learned how to socialize and made friends for the first time in her life, at last free from all the suffering caused by her biotic powers. As long as the L2 implant was left dormant, it did a good job at suppressing her health problems and the horrifying episodes of disassociation remained a thing of the past.

And so the years went by. Delilah found inner peace and self-confidence and when the drell captain eventually retired, she was ready to tackle the galaxy by herself. Delilah hopped from ship to ship, having become a fully-fledged comms specialist in her own right, and served with distinction on every crew she was ever a part of. She even worked as a vessel traffic controller for Omega’s spaceport for a few years. More recently, Delilah has found employment with a certain asari captain on a certain ship, functioning as her yeoman and comms specialist, and the deep dark of the galaxy awaits...

_{P E R S O N A L I T Y}

---

Delilah’s personality has been shaped by the trials and traumas she has had to overcome during her life and a complicated soul lurks behind her pretty blue eyes. By nature, Delilah is a kind-hearted, daydreaming romantic, but the little girl she once was has clad herself in hammer-forged armor of cold steel. Delilah’s history of abuse and abandonment suffered at the hands of family and institutions has instilled a deep sense of wariness, almost to the point of paranoia, and a powerful desire for independence. She is slow to place her trust in people and quick to dismiss them as unreliable. She appreciates friendships, but her idea of friendship is a lot more casual than most people’s. An intensely private person, Delilah no longer shares the secrets of her past with anyone and keeps everyone at arm’s length, content with a few drinking buddies to shoot the shit with and a partner or two to share her bed with.

Her complicated relationship with her nature as a biotic has given her a great deal of self-loathing to work through, especially after the incident when she awoke from her coma, and Delilah is deathly afraid of the danger she can be. She’s not shy about standing up for herself but she diligently avoids situations that could lead to violent confrontation, lest she be tempted or forced to utilize her biotic powers again. Taking lives in military combat didn’t bother her, but losing her mind afterwards did. She still has nightmares about the near-psychotic breaks she went through and spends a large part of her free time immersed in the fictional lives of characters in the extranet shows that she watches. Keeping up with them is almost a religious activity for her as she believes that it helps her stay out of trouble, and every day without trouble is another day without having to face the monster in the mirror -- the biotic killer that grins back at her with a face she doesn’t recognize.

Like so many people who have gone through deep suffering, Delilah’s wit has taken on a dry and caustic tone and she frequently engages in gallows humor. She can be sweet on occasion, but most of Delilah’s informal interactions with others are drenched in sarcasm and good-natured ribbing. Of course when she needs to be professional, she is, and Delilah is a diligent worker that’s always at her station when she needs to be and takes pride in a job well done.

_{A B I L I T I E S}

---

• Slam
• Pull
• Throw
• Warp
• Barrier

_{E Q U I P M E N T}

---

• Omni-tool customized with signal-boosting and decryption-enhancing modules that improve its ability to send, receive and break into digital communications.
• Light armor suit for hostile environments and emergencies. Every spacer has one.
• A simple M-3 Predator pistol that she’s never fired before. Currently taking up space in her locker.
• Her mind. Don’t underestimate it. Don’t provoke it, either.

_{S T R E N G T H S & W E A K N E S S E S}

---

• Delilah is a capable biotic, powerful enough to kill a man without firing a single shot. She can throw people across rooms, slam them into the ground, shred their bodies with raw biotic power and shield herself against bullets. That she has no extensive combat experience and no skill with conventional weaponry doesn’t make her any less dangerous.
• In addition, she’s smart and resourceful, and takes to new skills and knowledge quickly. She enjoys problem-solving and analysis; a remnant of her childhood spent indoors and without friends to play with. You need to stimulate your mind somehow.
• Her most obvious weakness is her physical condition. Delilah has chronic health problems that, while mostly suppressed by the L2 implant in its dormant state, still require some medications to deal with and she remains perpetually underweight. Her constitution and endurance suffer significantly as a result.
• For all of Delilah’s biotic power, she is extremely reluctant to actually use it. Doing so weakens her physical condition even further and induces all kinds of psychological problems. She cannot maintain biotic strength for very long and needs time to recover between each use, or she runs the risk of falling seriously ill and/or losing her mind.

_{G O A L S & R E G R E T S}

---

• The holy grail of Delilah’s life would be earning enough credits to find some salarian or asari genius neuro-biologist who can cure her of her physical ailments and safely upgrade her biotic implant to something more stable, but that is a pipe dream for the time being. Her real goal of finding somewhere to belong like a completely normal person is even further away from being realized.
• Most of Delilah’s regrets are centered on things that were outside of her control -- she wishes she was never exposed to element zero, never been subjected to Conatix Industries’ tests, never sent to Gagarin Station, never been blown up in combat. She has been fixing the consequences of these events for years now, but most of her bitterness is focused on the actions of other people that ruined her life before she had any agency over it in the first place.

@Hank

Hi @Hank

Delilah is a very interesting character that I can see you've put a lot of time and effort into. She feels very fleshed out, and I like this almost duality of her character - how she's living as she is, with who she was. I think that's too interesting of a concept to pass up on in a role play that will be dealing with a lot of horror themes, in scary situations.

I like that much of her story is grounded in just her, which adds a nice human element in a massively rich sci-fi world.

I'm.... concerned for her wellbeing throughout this roleplay.

She is accepted and can be moved to the character tab.

[Andreyich]

Volunteering to eat any characters left behind

[spicykvnt]

They call me Zoomfingers "Smoketrail" McBlisters, and this is my craft.

Shy Jung

_{CHEYENNE “SHY” JUNG
24 ⟁ FEMALE ⟁ HUMAN ⟁ ENGINEER}

"Yo."

_{A P P E A R A N C E}

---

“Nice hardware, right?”

Shy's Korean father and Scandinavian mother came together to create a blonde-haired half-Asian gremlin (presumably a woman) with trace amounts of other ethnicities from the last hundred or so years of Earth's global unity. She is not particularly imposing in either height or build, standing at 5'5" and weighing in at 115 pounds with a modest bust. Her skin is rather pale in only a somewhat unhealthy fashion that is not quite anemic, but mostly because of the two predominant genetic sources for that trait. Said skin is unblemished for the most part, save for a few beauty spots and a plasma burn scar on the far end of her left jaw. This is hidden by the end of her bobbed hair when its down, but it is mostly faded by now and is hardly all that noticeable anyway. While she has got some amount of muscle from her line of work, she's not cut by any means and tends to have other people do the heavy lifting for her, resulting in a little bit of squishy tissue over an otherwise skinny woman.

She has got the body of a woman who can do work but would prefer to lounge instead of actually doing it, and the only reason she isn't any heavier is due to an inexplicable metabolism. She has got a soft face that is otherwise laden with sharp, feline features. Such features include her slanted amber eyes and high cheek bones, and the angles of her diamond-shaped face makes a sharp turn from her cheeks to create a pointed chin just below her pink lips. Her nose, though small, is long and hawkish enough to make up the difference. The expressions typically shown on her face range from sardonic and bored stoicism to carefree or cocky, which gives away her general attitude and disposition without you even having to talk to her. This is only amplified by smudged, day-old or older makeup around her eyes that she never bothered to clean up, and sometimes the total lack of any makeup at all. It is a peculiar thing that no one ever seems to see it freshly applied.

Her blonde hair is short, hangs just above her shoulders, and is somewhat choppy in a stylish sort of way like it was cut by a razor, but it is also pretty uneven, which can only lead one to assume that she tried to cut it herself. Her bangs aren’t even or symmetrical with some strands being longer than the others, and it seems to gradually – just slightly – get longer toward the right side of her face, and if she keeps it down she's typically sporting a bed-head or similarly unkempt sort of appearance. Yet her hair is not particularly oily, so rather than being unwashed, it is probably just Shy's own neglect at brushing it. She prefers to tie her hair back in a short ponytail or tight bun, which her bangs are too short to take part in and one or two strands of hair always seems to get tugged out of her hair-tie. She can be seen pulling a strand or two out after putting her hair up as if it is the same few spots that always feels too tight and pinching, and the result always making her look a little frazzled.

For an inter-planetary mercenary/odd-job-hunter, she certainly does not dress the part. While most mercenaries are decked out in armor or other kinds of utility gear, Shy likes to hang out in casual wares with just a few odd gadgets on her person, and she does so with panache. It's clear that she is confident, as well as lacking any sense of style – probably inherited from her dad – opting for a button-up Hawaiian styled shirt (and she has a few of these, all in different colors, but yellow goes best with her hair) and a pair cargo khaki pants which are suitably baggy and comfortable, held up by a belt that might just be a size up from her, and some pricey looking work boots. Gadgets on her person includes the utility belt and what looks like a few watches on both her wrists, but on closer inspection are actually low-profile omni-tools. All that said, when push comes to shove, she probably has an old onyx light armored suit collecting dust in a footlocker somewhere, though she only really uses it for inhospitable environmental conditions.

She has a couple of accessories which is composed mostly of piercings. She has two piercings on her left outer brow, an industrial on her left ear, one tongue piercing, and two more piercings that nobody has any business knowing about. She has a colorful, vibrant tattoo sleeve of saturated watercolors depicting a floral pattern, and it extends from her left shoulder down to her elbow -- though so does the sleeves of her shirts, so the intense and beautiful (if a bit shallow) artwork isn't always in sight. There's another tattoo in black ink that goes around her neck that almost looks like a wired choker thanks to its thin, honeycomb-like design. There is one little tattoo on her right wrist of an inch-by-inch square that was done with a special kind of ink that interacts with the electromagnetic spectrum. Depending on the different wavelengths of light it is exposed to, it will either change color or have a faint neon glow of different hues.

_{H I S T O R Y}

---

"원숭이도 나무에서 떨어진다."

Shy has lived a charmed life until recently. She had a functional family as a kid and was an only child born in a Mexican hospital during her parents' work trip during 2160CE. The timing of her birth was quite fortunate for her, because despite the First Contact War three years ago, it was the year the Systems Alliance was recognized in the interstellar community. This period of time opened up resources for her as a child unavailable to others born too many years before now. As well, her parents both had money, were both recognized engineers that had met each other in the field, and they had the resources at their disposal to give their daughter the same path to success. They were incredibly doting, providing whatever it was their little girl could want, which spoiled her terribly.

When Shy was around 7 years old she started developing strange behaviors, but later a doctor clarified to her parents it wasn’t that she was developing strange behaviors, but that she wasn't learning the appropriate social behaviors and thought processes in her pre-operational stage of cognitive development. In other words, she was on the autistic spectrum. Yet, that barely changed anything regarding how they would treat their child. They continued to raise her as they would have but exercising a little more patience than they might have otherwise. This also meant tolerating more abrasive behaviors that the couple could have rectified before they became problematic later in life. Though Shy used to have a hard time understanding her dad's frequent use of sarcasm, she became accustomed to it and began to understand it better. However, she also developed the habit of speaking with a sarcastic tone of voice all the time, regardless of her actual use of sarcasm.

They gave her the best education they could afford, which meant an in-depth and engaging virtual program that she could access any time and from anywhere, and with a united global community, that also meant she was able to travel the world with her parents as they went on their work trips. This would expose her not just to all the great sights and cultures, but some of the greatest minds Earth had to offer and Shy absorbed all of their wisdom and intelligence like a sponge. In a confusing world of nuance, double-meanings, and perspectives, people were tricky, but calculus? Calculus was easy. Calculus had rules and did not contradict itself all the time, and those great scientific minds typically followed and appreciated those rules as much as she did.

She had the added bonus of learning mathematics in Korean because, like most Asian languages, it was better suited to learning math due to language's structure and brevity, leading to a quicker understanding and remembering a longer sequence of numbers. She also had virtually unlimited access to labs thanks to her parents who would also give her little projects to work on to keep her mind and hands busy and gave her experience with hardware and software. On special occasions, her parents would be invited to the Citadel to work on a project. Her first visit was as a teenager, and exposure to some of the greatest minds the entire galaxy had to offer was beyond lucky. Though since Shy considered other humans being tricky enough for her to understand, she never really put in the effort to bother even trying with alien races.

Of course, then she met the salarians, which did not take any effort on her part to get along swimmingly with. Likewise, one of them called her the only human they have ever met that made any sense. The asari, though confusing, were at least less emotional than humans most of the time and had a certain way about them that made her feel like she was understood. She was provided with everything she could hope for, which probably went a long way to developing her sense of entitlement.

It was not before long did Shy begin working alongside her parents and their colleagues as an apprentice at twenty years old. She was working on everything from virtual intelligence to sophisticated computer systems and defense technology. She did not just work on the software, either. She was turning as many bolts and screws as she was plugging numbers into computers and data pads, being as well versed in the mechanics and construction of applied engineering as she was in the theoretical. She also got to play with all of the “toys” she made, operating and testing them to make sure they functioned properly, and while she is no crack pilot, she can sit in the cockpit and knows how to get a bird off the ground and back on again.

Shy would later receive the equivalent of a futuristic master’s degree at twenty-two for her work on V.I., robotics, and automated systems. Though she received recognition and high credits for her work on weapons and defense systems, it was given to her because of her personal inventions. They improved convenience, quality of life, workplace safety, and automation, which reduced the risk of injury from maintenance of automated equipment by having a robot or computer do it instead. It was an automated motion-sensitive laser welder that could react to a malfunction or moving part in a piece of automation and instantly jerk back to avoid getting caught in a machine that could shear someone’s finger off.

She was already well on her way to being called a Doctor of Engineering within the next year, and she was working on a project with her parents and their now shared colleagues in a laboratory on Luna, Earth’s moon. Despite the Citadel ban on A.I. technology, the Earth Alliance did not have such rules at the time. Shy, her parents, and the rest of their team were contracted by the Alliance to secretly work on making the jump from V.I. to A.I. and the program was known as Hannibal. They made sure that the team working on the project was aware that what they were doing was highly illegal under Citadel-space law and that they would be prosecuted if knowledge were to be leaked out of the facility. All of them, Shy included, agreed to proceed despite the risks. It was here Shy learned how to work around hologram technology, as it was based on the Avina VI on the Citadel. A few months into their work, during one of their experiments, the program suddenly went rogue.

Shy was able to get away after finding her parents, though very few other scientists were able to escape. With their escape pod being one of the very first to eject, the rogue A.I. learned and adapted, sabotaging the other escape pods before the rest of the scientists could escape. It was the first time Shy experienced and witnessed death, and she didn't know how to process it. She had her own way of grieving, as difficult as it is for both her and anyone else to understand. She was saddened, but also confused, unsure of how to make sense of what happened what it means to be without certain people in her life. Despite Shy's conflict with her own emotions, what had happened on Luna did take its toll on her and she still feels a sense of burden and responsibility for what happened. She still thinks about it quite often, and, as someone who knew perfectly well about what was supposed to be going in and out of the A.I.'s programming, it didn't take long for her to come to the conclusion that the project was sabotaged by someone. She was not given a lot of time to give it further thought, because as the news spread, the Citadel acted. Her parents were arrested and brought into questioning, but Shy ran away and refused to accept responsibility for what happened. She didn't want to be labeled a criminal for what she believed was not her fault.

Evading arrest, she ended up making landfall on the cosmic shores of every criminal's paradise: Omega. There are only a few ways for a young girl like her to make money on Omega, and most of them were completely and utterly demeaning. Two options were left: make and sell tech on her own in a cutthroat business environment where others could easily take advantage of her and her lack of people skills, or find safety in numbers and use her smarts and tech to make easy coin. The choice seemed like an easy one to make. So, for the last year, she started doing freelance work by contracts. It typically began from doing everything from maintenance to engineering on Omega. These were her primary jobs, and she found them degrading as it essentially reduced her to being a common fixer. On the other hand, being so overqualified and her knack for engineering robotics to perform work for her made it a pretty easy gig. Though on the rarer occasions when she needed a lot of money fast – aside from time sensitive projects, she had a tendency of pissing off the wrong people – she would find herself being pressed into doing all sorts of unsavory-type mercenary jobs with all sorts of unsavory-type mercenary people.

Though the transition was alarming and harrowing at first, she was eventually able to find her niche after working a few jobs. Though resented by other mercs for her attitude, she was valued for her expertise with tech and got a reputation for fixing anything she set her mind to. She produced drones that would make short work of a job without anyone risking their own lives, and she could remotely access networks and bypass security systems that would have ultimately led to more bloodshed. So, to become a freelancer and survive a whole year, Shy figured that she must have gotten pretty good at it. Perhaps one day, she might be good enough to prove that what happened on Luna was one giant accident. Though she's highly confident in her abilities and is kind of self-righteous, she partially blames herself for not being even better and identifying the error in Hannibal's code before it went rogue, and she carries that burden with her everywhere she goes.

_{P E R S O N A L I T Y}

---

“Wait are you serious?” “No, never.”

Shy is a bit of an odd ball when you set her next to other mercenaries, her own peers comparing her to being more like a salarian than a human. She is a strange combination of intelligence, entitlement, and a casual laissez-faire attitude that would have her preferring to stay seated than do her job, and this combination is what makes her utterly disarming. She is an easy person to underestimate because of her lack of physical ability, temperament, and ambition, but she also has a chip on her shoulder that makes her feel like she's better than most people. It drives others nuts and it drives her to one-up those who would slight her, and to do so in the most casual manner possible so that her clever ploys indisputably put her over the top. Indeed, she has truly little ambition to do much with herself or her life and her prime motivation is spite. Spite is what drives her to surpass others, to tease and make fun of and toy with her enemies, and to survive (and look good while doing it). Do not let her nickname fool you. Shy is not shy by any means, and her preferred method of having fun is escaping labor, engage in banter, and getting a rise out of other people. That said, despite her lack of boundaries, she is not the type of person who would keep pressing someone's buttons if they are already having a mental breakdown or something (even if she wouldn’t otherwise know how to handle such a situation).

And yes, she comes across as remarkably entitled and lazy. That is what happens with you have rich, intelligent parents who can pay for your education and take you travelling all around the world and into the stars above. She has lived a rather charmed and carefree life, so in that regard she seems to expect a lot from others and is consequently let down when they don’t step up or meet her expectations. This has developed her somewhat cynical, arrogant, and misplaced perspective on others that leads her to believe that most people are incapable. Yet on the other end of the spectrum, it’s almost as if she underestimates her own intelligence and tries to speak to people casually about high-level astronautical engineering and avionics and acts surprised when they don’t understand these “simple” concepts (it is only rocket science, not quantum mechanics after all). She also does not seem to have learned to treat dire situations with the respect they deserve. She doesn’t freak out or mishandle her emotions, but instead she comes off as too detached from dangerous situations.

Even during her career as a mercenary, when such things started becoming normal to her, you can find her acting casual and without a sense of urgency while in the midst of a firefight and not understanding why you're freaking out so much. She speaks with such a deadpan expression, but also a sarcastic tone of voice – all of the time, mind you – that you're never quite sure whether she's being sarcastic or not and she's too tone-deaf to realize it. On one hand, it would make you angry that she is not taking anything seriously, but on the other, it's nice that there's someone you can rely on to always have a clear head. This trait of hers also makes her seem absurdly brave and ballsy in the face of imminent danger, even when she probably should not be.

This is not necessarily because she is overconfident, though she certainly is, but because she simply does not appear capable of fear or panic, as if she cannot properly process those emotions, or at least not in a way that is easy for others to understand. On the contrary, it is more because of her flat affect that she doesn’t visibly communicate these ideas, and though she is still quite brave and resilient, how she internalizes fear differs in that she is wired to view threats as problems in dire need of solving. It is the state of something being wrong, and as an individual concerned with right and wrong answers, she’s an individual who tries extremely hard to fix a problem. This can be seen in how she has internalized the Luna incident and her dogged determination in fixing and solving that issue. Problems that are too difficult to solve or can’t be solved can result in emotional outbursts that seem random or out of nowhere, if only because others were not able to see past her face for what brews beneath.

Make no mistake though, because despite her flaws Shy is a prodigy in her field. When she was only twenty years old, she was already working side by side with her parents and some of the greatest scientists and engineers Earth had to offer. She has spent at least half of her life working on and interacting with different forms of computers, robotics, and V.I. and is capable of reading computer code as if it was her native language. Her disinterested attitude seems to be present in all facets of her life except for computing and mechanical and electrical engineering. To her, computers are so much easier to understand than people are (though she would never admit to herself or to anyone that she finds people tricky.) That is because working with computers is like working with math -- there are right and wrong answers, there are rules, and if there's a hiccup in the program's execution, then you know to go back and change a variable. People and subjective concepts like art, morality, and the theory of mind – understanding another person's perspective – have no such rules, so she opts not to think about it altogether. The only exceptions she makes for works of art are pretty colors (a shallow definition of art) and the Blasto movies. Blasto the Jellyfish Stings is a classic and is almost as good as Blasto Saves Christmas.

There are unique distinctions in her interactions with others which are dependent upon the other’s gender. Even as someone who identifies as bisexual, she approaches men with more caution and is usually dismissive of their advances whether it was due to being harassed one too many times, or being repeatedly disappointed in them after a few failed flings in the past. Even if acknowledging that a man might be attractive, she is still quick to judge their character, capability, or doubt their intentions. Even outside of romance, she holds her ground whenever she is in conversation with men as she fully expects to defend herself and her credibility as a scientist. She does not judge people who are in or would otherwise engage in inter-species relationships, though she does not think she would ever partake herself – with, uh, exceptions, that is. She still finds herself with a predilection for asari despite the fact, even as she tries to convince herself otherwise, and she struggles with that cognitive dissonance. It is hard to judge quarians since she has never seen one outside of their suits before. She very much dislikes vorcha, but not for any particular reason (but honestly who really needs one). But none of them will ever compare to snacks. She plans on cashing in on the crewmates’ stashes just in case she runs out of her own.

As one could probably expect by now, Shy has issues with commitment that goes beyond her interests, whims, and fancies. She can work in a team if her history is anything to go by, but she was also surrounded by like-minded researchers who were all pursuing a unified goal that everyone was invested in. In an outfit of strangers, Shy would very likely be one foot out the door and ready to bail as soon as things start looking bleak and maybe she’ll find some other fools to ride with.

_{A B I L I T I E S}

---

“Use more gun.”

• Combat Drone
• Defense Drone
• Sentry Turret
• Hacking AI/Sabotage
• Decoy

_{E Q U I P M E N T}

---

• Customized omni-tool built from the Nexus model. It is basically deconstructed into two smaller tools with two-way communication. Though individually weaker than a single larger model, it improves their processing efficiency by dividing workloads like how a computer divides tasks between drivers. Their two-way communication means they can both put into work while Shy interfaces with just one of them, or they both work together to complete a task at the same speed if not faster, and break run tasks separately and simultaneously. This can allow for faster execution of tech abilities.
• The utility belt that can carry her tools, and she also carries with her a sort of toolbox that has a bunch of conventional engineering and maintenance supplies and a few crude inventions. An automatically unfolding reclining chair? Of course. A few power cells? Naturally. Some supplies for inventions, and so on.
• A scoped M-77 Paladin pistol in case of emergencies, though she mostly just uses it for the scope.
• She has a light onyx model suit somewhere collecting dust in those cases where she needs environmental protection.

_{S T R E N G T H S & W E A K N E S S E S}

---

• A masterful engineer and mechanic specializing in computers, robotics, automation, and virtual and artificial intelligence. However, she is still highly capable in other engineering pursuits by translating her understanding of mechanical science across disciplines. Naturally this makes her a sharp mathematician too, and is capable of solving puzzles and creating plans in seconds.
• Possesses unshakable clarity of mind, capable of staying calm and focused in even the most dire and intense circumstances. Her detached observations of her environment means that she could witness someone’s… extreme misfortune and not be paralyzed by it.
• Lack of combat training; she only started learning how to shoot last year when she first entered the mercenary business, so her aim is far, far away from perfect. She prefers to let her drones do all the work for her.
• Socially inept; Shy cannot build up a rapport with others even if her life depended on it. She is too abrasive and quirky to quickly make a meaningful connection with others, and her lazy, lackadaisical attitude can spark conflict with others.

_{G O A L S & R E G R E T S}

---

• She wants to become a great enough engineer to crack the code behind the Luna incident to prove the innocence of her and her family. She also wants to live long enough to see the highly anticipated movie, Blasto 6: Partners in Crime.
• Tied in closely to her goal, Shy also regrets the events at Luna. Not to the extent that she’s willing to give up on the prospect of AI, since she does believe it is possible – the Geth are proof of that – but she regrets not being able to identify or prevent the mistakes that were made that led to the upending of her life. She also regrets not building up the courage to talk to that one asari shawty on the Citadel before she was exiled to the ass end of space.

Shy Jung's Spotify Playlist

@Spoopy Scary

I am very sorry that my previous comment was harsh. I was trying to be funny and the joke didn't land, it flew so far off the mark. I'm very sorry.

I like Shy; what I had intended to portray was a narrowing eye at this ball of personality and almost abrasive quirks that will rub people the wrong the way. I think that's how you intended her to be, I am sorry if I have misjudged that and then acted like a b-i-t-c-h.

She is annoying though.

"And yes, she comes across as remarkably entitled and lazy." <--- annoying 👺

That's not a bad thing, like I said - we always need conflict and Shy will be sure to add a level of it that is a little different than just outright aggression/passive aggression towards others/hatred. Emotions that are very strong. I think that making a character that doesn't really understand people, on the same hand makes her hard to understand with others too - and that's an interesting conflict to play with, that is different and nuanced.

She is accepted and I'm happy to have you here.

[spicykvnt]

Alright, here we go. Hope it's alright.

Vaan'Hadaal nar Haegro

_{VAAN’HADAAL NAR HAEGRO
33 ⟁ MALE ⟁ QUARIAN ⟁ ENGINEER}

_{A P P E A R A N C E}

---

Like all quarians, Vaan’Hadaal’s true appearance is cloaked in an enviro-suit, and he removes it so infrequently that even he is not completely sure what he looks like, but like most, he decorates himself with intricately-woven cloths; he prefers red and brown hues, but he has been known to sport a fashionable yellow every now and then. He stands at 5’5”, an inch or so above average height for members of his race, and weighs in at 112 pounds, slight for a human of his size, but standard for a quarian civilian.
Vaan keeps his visor set to semi-opaque, as is the standard manner of the Migrant Fleet; only his eyes, reflecting the light from the omni-tool functions in his helmet, are visible most of the time, and he prefers to keep it that way.

On the increasingly rare occasions he would elect to remove his suit, Vaan’Hadaal would generally be considered attractive, though not especially so, with angular features and clear, periwinkle coloured skin. His hair —black, like any quarian— is cropped short, at least it was when he last removed his enviro-suit, as longer locks cause him discomfort in the suit’s snug confines. Across his face and body are streaks of azure blue, most notably running from below his eyes to just above his ear (or the closest thing quarians have to an ear).
Vaan has not seen his own face for some time, having been away from the flotilla for nigh on three years, so there are likely a few more lines and creases on his face than his last recollection, but he does not deem it necessary to check.

_{H I S T O R Y}

---

Born in 2124CE aboard the Haegro, the fourth, and smallest of the four Liveships in the Migrant Fleet, (since partially dismantled to enable repairs on the Chayym, and repurposed as a freighter) the early part of Vaan’Hadaal’s life was the standard fare for most quarian youth. Although he was named for the Haegro, his father was stationed on the Yobra, a Special Projects Vessel on the outskirts of the flotilla, and his work kept him away from his family most of the time. As such, Vaan developed a much closer relationship with his mother, with whom for the first ten years of his life, he was kept in a clean room —a sterilised environment— to minimise the possibility of any infection or disease overwhelming the young boy. In these years, his mother told him wondrous stories of the flotilla, and recounted his father’s deeds to him. Vaan’s father was part of a research team dedicated to the research and development of hyper-enriched element zero, for which there were multitude purposes, though the primary one seemed to be extended and augmented FTL travel; a means to move the Migrant Fleet further and faster than ever before. These stories stuck with Vaan’Hadaal, and they are probably what drove him to become a Propulsion Engineer later in his life.

When he was ten years old, he was fitted with his first enviro-suit, and finally, along with his mother, was able to explore the sprawling beauty that was the Migrant Fleet, and finally met his father, who though loving, was distant, constantly aboard the Yibro, working his days away. The young Vaan’Hadaal followed in his father’s footsteps, and routinely had to be punished for stealing himself into the Haegro’s engine bay to tinker and observe. The engine technicians paid him no mind; it was the Marines that objected to his clandestine activities.
In one fateful incident, Vaan’s tinkering left the drive core operating at less than half its optimum efficiency, and the Haegro was stranded a hundred miles back from the remaining Migrant Fleet. It was only its status as a Liveship, and his father’s insistence, that forced the flotilla to send rescue crew back for it. His father did not lay a hand on him in punishment; lest he risk damaging Vaan’s enviro-suit and condemning the boy to a slow death. Instead, he was sent from the Migrant Fleet early —one of the youngest ever— to depart for his Pilgrimage. He was shuttled down to nearby Ontarom, at the time a relatively newly founded human colony. The young quarian found it difficult at first; the planet’s atmosphere was almost unbearable warm compared to the sleek, sterile confines of the Migrant Fleet; and the Alliance colonists were wary of the boy at first. Eventually, after enough goading and annoyance, the Alliance team allowed the fifteen year old to join them, begrudgingly. He was given menial work, loading and unloading, and ferrying cargo by shuttle from the landing zones to the construction sites. The toil was almost too much; the boy’s slight frame and weak immune system made the manual labour increasingly taxing; when he passed out at the control of a shuttle, and crashed it into a sand bank, the Commander of the station, Alliance Lieutenant Herschel Gibbs made the decision to re-assign him. The Lieutenant couldn’t very well send him away from Ontarom, as the heartless Migrant Fleet had done, so he set him to work in an area that quarians are better suited to: the heart of the research team. Ontarom was to be the sight of a communications hub, but the tidal disruptions from the planet’s dying moon, as well as the frequent electrical storms made the task difficult. Vaan’Hadaal was part of the team that pioneered the use of the cutting-edge “dish field”, which allowed crucial communications from the planet without the interference of magnetic fields. Vaan left Ontarom before the installation, however. He asked GIbbs for the dataclip containing the research data, but the Lieutenant refused; Alliance tech wasn’t for just anyones eyes, though he did manage to smuggle dataclips of incomplete data off-world. However, for his service, Gibbs allowed him to take a shuttle up to the SSV Alamo, a frigate returning to the Citadel.

Vaan’Hadaal found the Citadel too noisy. The Migrant Fleet was home to seventeen million quarians, more than the population on the Citadel, but there were so many people, bunched so closely together; it made him thankful for the relative privacy of his enviro-suit. Still, the cradle of modern galactic civilisation was the perfect place to find what he needed to complete his pilgrimage. His first idea was to study the Keepers; the sentient caretakers of the superstructure, but he found them too sophisticated to truly understand, and he ran afoul of C-Sec during his investigations. He made a series of investigations into the complex VI that served the Presidium, but this time he found no such level of sophistication; quarians had a complex network of VIs running throughout their enviro-suits, some of them significant upgrades to the Citadel’s VIs. It was a struggle to find anything he could really get his teeth into: Citadel technology was either so widespread across Alliance Space, or so closely guarded that N7 and the Council would never give a simple, teenage quarian access to them. He loathed the rigid hierarchy of the Citadel. Of course, the Migrant Fleet had a hierarchy, but it was a meritocracy; captaincy was given to the most senior and the most able quarian on board their respective ship. Everywhere he looked on the Citadel he found inept officials, passing off their duties to their subordinates and hiding themselves behind dizzying walls of bureaucracy. If the Citadel could not fulfil his Pilgrimage then there had to be another station somewhere in the Galaxy that would. Somewhere where there was not so much red tape.

After consulting with every departing vessel, and attempting to convince every captain in the spaceport to ferry him to another port (for no credits, even) he stowed away on a volus merchant frigate bound for the Terminus Systems. If he was caught, he was sure the volus would have no qualms either deserting him on the nearest uninhabitable rock, or ejecting him out into the void of space. He had to keep his wits about him. For a week, he hid in the cargo holds, subsisting on the last of his dextrose paste canisters, and sleeping with one eye open. Eventually, he disembarked on Omega.
Omega was everything the Citadel wasn’t. It was free of the stringent regulation of the Presidium and the clean, whitewashed walls of the Wards. Vaan’Hadaal knew that he would never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy anywhere in the Galaxy, but it was ideal for him.
He was a curiosity on Omega; though Vorcha and Batarians were commonplace, a well-dressed quarian was severely out of place, and though he caught some unwanted attention, he was able to find his way into some unsavoury circles. He ran with the Talons for a time, working for them as something of an engineer; repairing mechs, upgrading omni-tools and the like. It was small-time work for him: even as a youngster he had been conscripted into work details aboard the Migrant Fleet, and the level of technology on the flotilla far surpassed what these cutthroats were using. Still, it gave him an opportunity to get his hands on some of the most cutting-edge tech that could be smuggled out of Alliance Space.
Eventually, he managed to get his hands on something interesting: the Talons had got their hands on Tactical Cloaks, straight from the N7 armoury. They were an interesting piece of equipment, but seeing them in use, Vaan’Hadaal noticed the fatal flaw: the wearers were still visible, at least to anything except the naked eye. Heat signatures and individual magnetic fields could still be identified by non-organic targeting systems. With a few minor alterations, including the addition of a secreted lithium heatsink to minimise the recognisable thermal signature, and a miniaturised version of the dish-field technology that he had worked on while on Ontarom, he was able to rework the simple Tactical Cloak into a fully-realised Invisibility Field. The Migrant Fleet could not possibly turn their nose up at such a breakthrough. While battery life was a concern, as well as the fact that it still could not mask sounds or smells, Vaan was certain it would make for an excellent “gift”. The Talons got wind of his work though, and were not so keen to part with the technology for nothing. Though Vaan was able to buy passage on an Elcor cargo freighter, the Talons caught up to him sooner or later.
It was a brutal punishment. He was stripped of his enviro-suit, and left in a cold, makeshift cell aboard their ship; his withered immune system could not handle conditions on the vessel, and he was soon on the verge of death. It was only when a mutiny happened aboard the ship that he was given a chance of reprieve. The leader of the mutineers, a Turian named Canis demanded his dataclip containing all his work in exchange for his life. Vaan’Hadaal had no choice but to accept, and he was stuffed back into his enviro-suit and sold to an Asari diplomat on Illium.

His time on Illium was unremarkable, outside of the fact that he was in indentured service. The diplomat was good to him, giving him plush quarters and feeding him well, but for the first time in his life, he longed for the Migrant Fleet. He knew he would have to get himself out of the system, as the flotilla did not pass through the Tasale system, or even that close to the Crescent Nebula.
His duties contained little more than the average: cooking, cleaning, delivering letters etc. so in his free time he was free to move around the station, within limits. He used most of his time trying to rewrite the huge bank of data that had been taken from him by Canis. Other than that, he scoured what corners of Nos Astra were available to him, trying to secure passage off the planet. He would either have to buy his freedom (but with what credits?) or flee his master and risked being chased to another star system as he had before.
Eventually, he chose the second option, taking up a position as an engine tech with a Human trader ship, the Acheron, bound for the Attican. They left in the dead of night. The fear of being captured again kept Vaan’Hadaal bound to the engine bay, where he spent his time doing whatever he could to try and keep his mind busy, tinkering with the engine and writing whatever he could remember from his dataclip.
Finally, with the meagre pay he received from his work on the Acheron, he chartered a shuttle back to the Migrant Fleet when the crew docked at Jarrahe Station to refuel. The fleet happened to be passing the system, so he took his chance when he could. The old shuttle was banged up, and could barely fly. It was in pieces by the time he reached the flotilla.

It wasn’t the hero’s welcome he was expecting. In fact, no one seemed too concerned that he had returned at all, save his mother, who welcomed him back with open arms. He had been away on Pilgrimage for nearly eight years, a long time compared to some, and most had forgotten that he existed. His father, as he had always been, was working away on a Special Projects vessel, though he had become weak and infirm, likely due to prolonged exposure to Element Zero.
The Admiralty Board accepted his gift, the unfinished datachip, though it was not as lauded as he had hoped. For the two more years he spent on the Migrant Fleet, it was never mentioned or researched, and he was unable to continue work on it, so it lay dormant with some Special Projects team somewhere on the flotilla.
The Migrant Fleet was not how he remembered. Gone was the wonder and awe that he once had when he shuttled between frigates. It reminded him too much of the Citadel; there was too much order, too much hierarchy. He couldn’t wait to leave again. When the Fleet was passing through the Exodus Cluster, he was ferried down to Eden Prime, to take up work again.
Through the next few years, he hopped from ship to ship, working as an engine tech, munitions officer, or general mechanic. Most of the ships had similar technology to the Migrant Fleet, so he was well suited to it.
This was his life for the next ten years. The ships would dock at the Citadel, Eden Prime, Terra Nova, and every other human colony in Council Space. He would avoid voyages too deep into the Attican Traverse, or anywhere near the Terminus Systems —he could not risk being found by the Talons, or forces from Illium— until 2183CE, while on Eden Prime. Two ships ship docked at the station within a day of each other. The first, a sleek, asari built construct, the Calanth. It was from Illium. The second, a hardy, Human vessel, the Amtar stocking up before making its way out to Omega. By chance they were looking for a new Engineer.
He had a choice. Stay on Eden Prime, and risk the crew of the Calanth learning his history and dragging him back there, or take the job on the Amtar and hope he didn't run into any Talons.
The choice was easy.

_{P E R S O N A L I T Y}

---

Some might call Vaan’Hadaal agelastic. Others might just call him stiff. There is little that will make Vaan laugh. Perhaps it’s from the trauma of his life, or perhaps that’s just the way quarians are.
He is not quick to reveal details about himself or his life, but he is not hiding them either. If people wish to know something about him, they need only but ask. Perhaps his outward demeanour is what turns people off pressing him about his past.
Vaan is likely to consider you a friend long before you do the same. He enjoys the company and conversation of his crewmates, but the lack of laughter might be what makes others think that Vaan doesn’t think so highly of them, when often the opposite is true.

Vaan has been treated poorly by so many people throughout his life that he is not one to give trust easily, as it so often leads to betrayal. The one exception to this, generally, is humans. Humans have been good to him, whether it was Lieutenant Gibbs on Ontarom, the men and women of the Citadel, or the crewmen who ferried him from Illium. When he is surrounded by humanity, he is most at ease.

He is unlikely to spend his free time relaxing. Like most quarians, he has an innate curiosity that tempers his every move. He is most likely to be found in the engine bay, either taking readings or observing the drive core at work. Other than that, he still has a desire to re-complete his works on cloaking technology, though compiling research for a third time would be a galling task, one that he is not so keen to undertake, though he will occasionally take time to try and recount some of the more complex ideas that his research discovered.

_{A B I L I T I E S}

---

• Engineering Knowledge and Improvisation

_{E Q U I P M E N T}

---

• Modified Omni-tool
• H-K Kessler Pistol

_{S T R E N G T H S & W E A K N E S S E S}

---

• Vaan is something of a technological factotum. In his past, Vaan worked on so many varying technologies, that nowadays, he can put his hands to work on almost anything. If you have a problem with something, bring it to Vaan, and he can probably fix it, to a degree, at least.
• He has a high motor, something that makes him a valuable crew member. He can focus on a task for a long time without having to rest, and he rarely sleeps. While this can raise its own difficulties, he is usually appreciated by the higher ranking crew on ships for his work ethic.
• Charisma is not something Vaan could be accused of having. He has a hard time getting people to grow close to him, or even trust him. His quiet, stoic nature makes him a difficult crewmate sometimes, often leading people to frustration.
• Vaan has little awareness of risk or jeopardy. He has put himself in harm’s way so many times in his life, simply by not comprehending the potential danger, or discounting it too quickly. It makes him an effective researcher, but not much else.

_{G O A L S & R E G R E T S}

---

• In the short term, Vaan is searching for a project to really sink his teeth into. None of the work he has ever undertaken has been a real passion project. Ultimately though, he is looking for his real place in the Universe. He felt out of place amongst his own people on the Migrant Fleet, he disliked the coldness of the Citadel, and he was not suited to the criminal lifestyle on Omega. Hopping from ship to ship in the Exodus Cluster was the closest he ever came to true happiness, but even then there was no long term security. For the most part, the Caelestis is a means to an end for him.
• Vaan regrets not having stood up for himself. He has let himself be taken advantage of so many times, placing technological discovery at a higher priority than personal safety. It made life so more difficult than it should have been, and robbed him of so much of his life’s work.

@Nightbringer

Hi @Nightbringer

First of all, finally - a Quarian!

I love Quarians and they're usually way more popular, how did we get to the last day of submissions without one?

Anyway, I love this character - but he still feels a little rough around the edges in areas. There's a lot to like about him. Something that I keep going back to that I really like is this little personality quirk; "He enjoys the company and conversation of his crewmates, but the lack of laughter might be what makes others think that Vaan doesn’t think so highly of them, when often the opposite is true."

I find it so endearingly odd, I think, that he doesn't laugh? I don't know why - I just really like that tidbit. That's the kind of information I always remember most from a sheet :>

I want to accept Vaan, but I think he just needs a little bit more working on the sheet. In particular, the history - I'd like to see a little bit about how he ended up on Omega to join the Caelestis mission and why - I feel like I know why from reading the history, but I would like that added in just to bring his story to the present.

I think there's further to go with him as well, there's more that can be done with his personality in particular. I'd love to see more of the quirks, I'd like to know what does make him tick.

So, it's a tentative yes for now Night, but maybe just polish up the sheet a little more first :)

[spicykvnt]

VON KAN’CHAR

_{VON KAN’CHAR
35 ⟁ MALE ⟁ BATARIAN ⟁ SOLDIER}

_{A P P E A R A N C E}

---

_{H I S T O R Y}

---

Von Kan’Char was born on the Batarian home world of Khar’shan to two very patriotic parents. His father was a commander in the Hegemony army and his mother was a medical researcher who’s work focused on biotics and advanced cybernetics. At the age of eighteen Von joined the Hegemony military and rose through the ranks rather smoothly. Despite suggestion that his commendations were because of his father and his close relations with several Hegemony executives, Von was in actuality a competent leader and a skilled soldier.

At the age of twenty four Von was recommended for the Hegemony SIU (Special Intervention Unit), something his father took great pride in. Von was promoted to Second Lieutenant and given his own command. For the next three years Von was on assignment in the Terminus Systems and later the Skyllian Verge. Most of his assignments involved arming and coordinating pirate gangs as they attacked Alliance targets. Von’s fortunes would eventually begin a downward surge after the events of the Skyllian Blitz in 2076.

Von and his father both were a part of the siege on the Alliance world. Von and his squad were directed to making surgical strikes amid the siege on ideal targets such as communication relays, anti-ship batteries, and reinforcing convoys. For example, when a unit of Alliance soldiers were enroute to reinforce a motor pool, Von and his men crippled the unit via land mines and well placed rocket strikes to disable their Makos and then gunned down the survivors with crossfire and snipers. Meanwhile Von’s father, Grahdeel Kan’Char, was leading a direct attack on Elysium’s capital Illyria.

As the siege dragged on, the ragtag pirate hordes and supporting Batarian forces began to wane. Commander Grahdeel was killed by sniper fire and Von’s squad had suffered severe casualties after an Alliance gunship had spotted and hounded them into a ravine far west of Illyria. By the time they had destroyed the gun ship and made it to safety, the siege had broken. Alliance reinforcements had arrived and were tearing the pirate fleet apart. Von barely made it off world, the last of his squad dying in their run for a shuttle to escape. Von made it back to Batarian space, having no time to mourn the loss of his father before being thrust before military brass. Despite the utter disaster of the siege and the loss of his unit, Von was promoted to Lieutenant Commander. Vowing to avenge the death of his father and his comrades on Elysium, Von Kan’Char kindled within himself a rage for humanity and the Alliance.

It was two years later that he would face his second crushing defeat. By this point Von had been promoted to commander and was coordinating SIU operations against Alliance frontier outposts and orbital structures. He was on Torfan when the Alliance attacked. With his superior presumably killed, Von seized control of Hegemony forces on site and attempted to coordinate a defense. Despite his best efforts the Alliance shattered the defending forces and gave pursuit, driving them from the system. When he returned to Khar’Shan, Commander Von Kan’Char was clapped in irons and dragged before the Fleet Lord In Chief. Charged with insubordination, violating military’s procedure, and “utter incompetence”.

As it had turned out, Von’s superior officer on Torfan hadn’t perished but had temporarily fallen from communication. By the time he was able to re-establish connection the defensive forces had already switched channels under Von’s order. The Hegemony, infuriated by the loss of Torfan and of so many Batarians, placed the blame on the SIU commander. Von was stripped of his rank, commission, and dishonorably discharged from the SIU and the Hegemony military. He was due to be imprisoned, but managed to escape just after his trial, stealing a shuttle and fleeing from Batarian space. Afterward, he reached out to his old contact network he established during his time with SIU and pulled a few favors.

His career and old life now nought but ashes, Von Kan’Char made his way to Omega and took up bounty hunting. Omega wasn’t really the place for him though. While Von had consorted with pirates, mercenaries, and gangs in the past, he didn’t care for a place run by them. After a year he left Omega and made his way to Korlus where he then spent two years as a personal bodyguard for a Turian crime lord. But like Omega Korlus was a world of gangs and mercenaries, and syndicate war just wasn't his life. Despite the Turians’ good pay, Von left Korlus and would spend the next four years wandering the Terminus Systems as a bounty hunter and gun-for-hire. Drifting from one client and contract to the next.

A year later he would end up on Illium between contracts, and that’s where he first caught whiff of the Caelestis job. He looked into the details and, liking what he saw, accepted the contract.

_{P E R S O N A L I T Y}

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When he was a soldier of the Hegemony, Von Kan’Char was a proud Batarian. He was patriotic, dutiful, loyal, charismatic even among his own. He had a fire in his eyes and a zeal for his government and duty. It was fair to say that Von was in some ways a Batarian elitist, a nationalist.

His pride and sense of duty held steadfast even after Elysium, and in truth it only strengthened. As did his elitist xenophobic view of the galaxy and its “inferiors”. Especially the humans. “Every human killed is a service to, not just our people, but the cosmos.” This is what he preached to his men.

It wasn’t until after Torfan that Von Was humbled to say the least. His pride and patriotism gone after the government he served gelded him and threw him to the varren. Forced from his home and a wanted criminal, traveling the galaxy and dealing with the various races and cultures opened his mind more. While he still holds somewhat of a bitter grudge with humans, he’s willing to work with them. Though he’d never call one his friend.

These days Von is a dry man. Not harsh or brazen, but hardly a birthday clown either. He keeps things professional and tries to avoid getting to close with partners and “coworkers”, even fellow Batarians. Despite all this, he has a grim sense of humor and even finds times to make a pun or two.

_{A B I L I T I E S}

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• Armor Piercing Ammo
• Disruptor Ammo
• Sharpshooter
• Concussion Shot
• Inferno Grenade

_{E Q U I P M E N T}

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• M-8 Avenger Assault Rifle
• M-97 Viper Sniper Rifle
• M-5 Phalanx (Custom added ammo capacity 4+1.)
• Custom hard suit with a trauma module, medical interface, and a kinetic buffer for added kinetic barrier durability.

_{S T R E N G T H S & W E A K N E S S E S}

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• Tactical minded. Has a head for strategy and combat flexibility.
• Sharpshooter. A skilled crack shot highly trained as a SIU commando.
• Weak knee. Von was wounded in the right knee on Torfan by an armor piercing round from a hand cannon. His knee becomes strained and tired after extensive running and can’t handle the heavy shock of long jumps and hard falls. While corrective procedure is possible he never took time for it after fleeing Batarian space.
• PTSD. Von’s past haunts him. The events of Elysium and Torfan have left him fragile of mind at times and even unpredictable in bad situations.

_{G O A L S & R E G R E T S}

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• Von Kan’Char wants a new life. A world to settle on, property, security, wealth, and a little luxury too. Perhaps someday a family if he isn't too old, though he doubts it. He’s been saving every credit he can since fleeing from Khar’shan and has a small fortune spread out through several bank accounts on the Citadel under a pseudonym and fake identity. When the day comes that he lays down his gun for good, he plans to live out his days in peace and penance. Perhaps a nice private estate on an asari garden world.
• Von’s greatest regret is Torfan. While Elysium was a failure, it was Torfan where he lost everything. If only he’d kept rank and not rushed to be the hero. If only he’d kept his cool and not let his hatred of the Alliance cloud his judgment. Perhaps he’d still be in the Hegemony today. Perhaps he’d still be in the SIU. Perhaps he wouldn’t have shamed his mother and father. Torfan was where he lost everything, and he will never relive that failure.

@Scrivener

Hi @Scrivener!

I like what I see of Von, I like that you've taken a very military background - and I can see Von and Sabinus having some interesting conversations for sure. Xenophobia is not something I want to miss out on in the roleplay-- okay that sounds really wrong! What I mean to say is, I think there's a lot of potential for conflict with a character like Von, specifically in the cast that we do have, where everyone is vastly different and fills out a different role. There is opportunity for conflict, but also growth and that's what we're here for, right? :>

Also I know it's mean, but I'm tickled by his bad knee. (Sorry!)

There is absolutely a place for Von in this roleplay. That said, it's still lacking in details. You can't give him a dodgy knee and not write an appearance section where we get to visualise how he holds himself, whether he has a disgruntled expression, how he looks when he does a rare smile - this is flavour that's currently missing from the sheet that I think just gives us a bigger, brighter picture of the character, and also helps you in understanding him and translating that to us as well.

Tentative acceptance, pending some more work on the sheet :)