Dervish

The Elder Scrolls: City of Anvil

I see my skill system is still finding life after death, much like the sketchy leftovers I find at the back of the fridge and microwave.

Mass Effect: Vigil

@DrRtron and I did a thing.

The water broke upon the shore in gentle, unassuming waves. Karnoc stared at the pull of the sea, a cycle of reaching and retracting, just shy of his feet, like the most ineffective predator grasping for prey it wouldn’t know what to do with if it caught it. It was a strange, alien thing to the krogan; Tuchanka wasn’t exactly renowned for its majestic oceans, and a lot of the worlds he’d been to weren’t mostly water like Earth was. Apparently the oceans turned into a mighty tempest called a hurricane sometimes and destroyed entire cities, and perhaps that was what drove Karnoc to visit this seemingly gentle giant; he wanted to see if anything on this planet could account for humanity’s strength and dominance in the galaxy.

Was it not a human that ended the Reaper threat? Karnoc’s current leader was a human woman that he could pick up with a single hand and wouldn’t be able to make a scratch on him if she tried without the assistance of weaponry, but there was something about humanity that lent themselves to many strong emotions from other species that one could only obtain from being in a position of strength and power. It was a spectrum ranging from loathing to fear to respect and anything in between, and if it weren’t for humanity forcing an end to thousands upon thousands of years of animosity between the species of the galaxy in light of the bigger threat, there was a good chance that this beach wouldn’t have had a single soul left on it, and this seemingly weak body of water would carry on, ignorant of the people who had once lived alongside it vanishing.

Krogan were feared more than anything, powerful warriors and conquerors that required extinction level solutions to stop when the species hit its stride. It took the entire combined efforts of the galaxy to stop the Krogan Rebellions that ended with a sterilization plague and the galaxy was powerless to stop the Rachni until the krogan arrived to snuff out the bug bastards. It wasn’t respect the krogan were ever shown, or understanding.

Karnoc’s people were either tools that their wielders never realized how dangerous they were or a force of nature that required nothing short of genocide to stop. Unlike the batarians, who pretended to be strong and bickered and whined about being treated unfairly by the Citadel and were incapable of taking what they wanted from humanity because they were weak, the krogan decided to take what they felt were owed and the bloodiest and most devastating war in galactic history, save the Reapers themselves, was what the krogan promised.

And so, with a destroyed homeworld and having survived the genophage and whatever else the universe decided to throw at the krogan, Karnoc’s people had emerged from this war stronger and more united forever, and perhaps following a new path that was worthy of countless generations of just surviving against all odds. Maybe, just maybe, this whole peace thing was worth a shot, and the strength that really mattered wasn’t born from a planet where everything wanted to test and murder you. Perhaps that made the krogan shortsighted, whereas humans were able to focus on the bigger picture and more ambitious and clever goals because of their soft planet. Maybe that’s why Karnoc fell in line to Katya and followed her leadership without complaint; there was something to learn from her, and the krogan would become an ambassador for what his species could be.

The waves reached towards Karnoc and finally touched his toes.

“That’s it; show me what you’re made of, runt.” Karnoc challenged the ocean.

After asking around the resort, Karnoc was a very distinct krogan after all, Janiri was finally pointed in the right direction. She headed to the beach, which made sense considering that there were no oceans on Tuchanka, pausing as she reached the edge. It was beautiful. The salty smell, the regular and soothing sound of the waves, how the sun glistened off it, all of those were more beautiful than she had expected. She had seen oceans before, of course. The extranet was filled with them and she had spent hours watching videos of scientists exploring the depths of their own seas.

She had never seen one in person, however, and it was better than she had imagined it would be. Janiri walked onto the sand and, looking around to make sure no one was too close, pulled a glove off and knelt to let the sand fall through her finger tips. She gave a soft giggle at the sensation, doing it a few more times before she pulled her glove back on and made her way towards Karnoc.

He was standing at the edge of the ocean, staring out at it. For a brief moment she wondered what he was thinking as he saw it. Was he wondering what monsters lay in the depths that he could fight? Comparing it to a blue rose? The possibilities were many, though she had to admit most of them dealt with violence.

Carefully, so that she didn’t startle him and end up like the drell, she edged into the side of his vision and waved a tentative hand. She was six feet back, giving herself plenty of space to back up should he decide to touch her again.

“Hello? Kroc?” She closed her eyes, wincing and hunching a little more in on herself. Fuck. That wasn’t his name. Why did she want to keep calling him that? She corrected herself as she continued. “Karnoc? I’m Janiri, the one you saved back on the mission. The farmer? The one you told to get up and fight? I just wanted to say thank you for that. For saving me, not for yelling at me.” The words were soft and slowly said, so she didn’t stutter as her eyes looked everywhere but Karnoc’s eyes. She didn’t know what to do with her hands as she crossed them, folded them, tried to leave them hanging, before finally settling on pulling a credit chit from her pocket and just turning that over and over.

The heavy crested head turned to look at the asari… the idealist. He gave Janiri a curt nod. “I remember. We’re on a team; I’d appreciate it if you didn’t insinuate I’m an idiot who can’t remember people because I’m a blood raging krogan.” he remarked dryly, his voice was level. “Not sure how many battles you fought before, I assumed a few if you were on the team. I can tell you’re young; there’s no place for ideals on the battlefield. Doesn’t matter if those drell were mind controlled or not, they would have killed you and everyone else if presented the opportunity.”

He grunted, shaking his head slowly. “Way I see it, there was never any guarantee they would have been freed from control, especially if Reaper crap was involved. If I were trapped in my own body with something else puppeting me, I’d hope somebody would put me out of my misery. It was always going to be us or them; it just worked out that the solution was tidy enough to save some of them.” he lifted his large shoulders in a heavy shrug. He regarded the credit chit the asari was fiddling with with a tilt of his crest to the side.

“I’m not taking your money for doing my job.”

Janiri hunched further on herself as Karnoc spoke. She hadn’t meant to imply that he was an idiot! They had only just met two days ago! It was stupid of her to have included so many reminders. She should have just left it with her name and explained further if he didn’t figure it out. Why didn’t she ever do the smart thing? Her inner beration was interrupted as he continued and lectured her on her ‘ideals’. She kept quiet, eyes still refusing to meet his own. She wasn’t an idealist. The Reaper War hadn’t left anyone with ideals alive. She was just good at following orders. They had been explicitly told to keep the drell occupied and alive. Regardless of how good Karnoc’s points were, their orders hadn’t changed. Fortunately for Karnoc, it didn’t matter in the end. The drell were all killed by the seeker swarms and no one was going to wonder why there was another that had been eviscerated.

Her brow furrowed in confusion and she tilted her head at the mention of money, before she looked down at the chit she was still turning over in her hands. Her next words were blurted out as she blushed with embarrassment.

“Oh! No, nonono! Sorry! I wasn’t going to pay you for saving me, not that you wouldn’t deserve it! I just have this thing where my hands have to be kept busy, and I figured it’d be less weird if I was messing with a chit rather than folding and unfolding them. Sorry if I insulted you with that. And sorry about the accidental insinuation. It’s just that we’ve only known each other for two days...and didn’t interact much...and I didn’t want there to be any confusion...sorry...” She trailed off, putting the chit back in her pocket to hopefully avoid any more confusion. A few beats of silence and then a thought popped into her head. Karnoc knew what he was talking about when it came to combat. While she had no idea if the squad was set up to be effective or not, Karnoc would.

“Do you think we’re an effective squad? When I was in Eclipse there was a balance. I was tech, Shala was the biotics. Tazun and Mark were the muscle. I...don’t see such clear lines here. We got the job done, but.... Sigma died. That Collector almost tore through us. It was messy.”

“You’re more skittish than an over-caffeinated salarian; relax.” Karnoc said, turning to face Jainiri, his hands hanging at his sides, as if unsure of what to do with them when they weren’t holding something. He could relate to the asari’s reasoning for needing to fiddle with the chit. “Believe me, insults tend to need to get to the point of inter-clan gunfire before I start to really pay them any mind. You’re fine.” he reassured her in an almost tired baritone.

Janiri nodded, but her body language didn’t change. Sure, she was fine now. But that could change in an instant, even with as unusually calm a krogan as Karnoc seemed to be.

He pondered what her follow-up question postulated. “Considering we went up against a Collector that we weren’t expecting and only lost a single soldier to enemy fire, it went about as well as you could expect.” he didn’t mention that Sigma’s sacrifice, while appreciated, was utterly unnecessary; a rocket would hurt and likely break his shielding, but krogan physiology and battle-tested armour would have taken care of the rest… it just might have knocked him senseless for a bit, maybe took a limb if he was really unlucky. “I think mostly we have individuals who are talented and experienced, you kind of have to be to survive the war, but we don’t know each other.

“Maybe you can be assed to read a dossier or pay attention to someone at the range or whatever, but we never fought alongside each other. We all have different strengths and doctrines and tactics and blah blah blah. I know the others look at me like I’m a liability, that I’m reckless and dangerous and probably stupid because krogan go smash, krogan no use turian tactics, you know how it is. What they fail to consider is I’ve survived Tuchanka with my clan for a long time before most of the people we’re fighting with were even born. I survived fighting the Reapers in the frontlines the entire time. Yeah, a human tries to do what I do, they’d be eviscerated in no time because they’re soft. A krogan is a force-multiplier; we draw fire, we endure shit that would kill anyone else in stride, and our reputation and ferocity puts fear into our enemies. So what if I take a few shots? I can withstand it. Can you say the same about anyone else?” he asked the asari.

Janiri couldn’t help but think that he had reinforced those thoughts. Karnoc had recklessly ran forward several times during the fight. Though, she had to admit he had a point about being able to survive it. He didn’t need to worry about being reckless when he was the organic equivalent of a tank.

“I could get the same results with my tech armor, technically speaking,” she allowed herself a small snort at the unintentional pun before continuing. “But it wouldn’t be able to handle nearly as much firepower as you would be able to. I don’t know about the others, but I for one appreciate you taking all the attention. Having that Collector’s attention on you was much preferable to having it on me.” She paused, realizing how callous her words might come across as. “Sorry! Not that I think you deserve it! Or that you can’t do anything other than charge forward recklessly! Not recklessly, intentionally! Because you know tactics!” Gods why couldn’t she stop talking. It was like a water spout that didn’t shut off. Desperate to change the subject, she blurted out, “Did you get Kate’s messages? Whomever is buying the artifact shards is delayed. While we’re waiting for them we’ve got two new squad mates. A medic and an engineer. That should help, right?”

“Technically speaking. Just don’t rely on it; technology has a way of crapping out when you need it most.” Karnoc grunted. “Seen a few mercs in my days think they were untouchable because of this piece of tech or this gun or whatever and they forgot the basics and they always have this betrayed look on their faces before their faces get blown off when their toys malfunction. Even a cheap omnitool usually has some level of cyberwarfare suites to sabotage enemy tech. One minute your shields are up, the next your HUD is screaming at you because something shorted them out. One second you’re firing a burst from your gun, the next it’s too hot to hold.”

He looked down as the water reached his feet again, letting the asari scramble to cover her ass from her salvo of verbal gaffs. “I don’t think deserve has much to do with anything. I’m not the sneaky type, if I didn’t think I could hold my own being the focal point in a fight, I wouldn’t do it. If I wasn’t keeping the Collector’s attention, it might not have given someone else an opening to make the critical shot.” his attention turned back to Janiri with a nod.

“Yeah, I looked at the messages. Not much really of interest to me, at least as far as the aftermath of a job goes. They could use the artifact as a paperweight for all I care.” he waved a dismissive hand. “The replacements are at least interesting, as much as they’ve told us anyways. Someone who can fix bodies and someone who can fix tech. Hopefully they know how to fight.”


Janiri gave a small shrug. “I mean, I kinda have to rely on it. As you saw, I’m pretty lacking when it comes to fighting. Without you, that drell would’ve splattered me instead of you splattering him. Thank you again for that! It would have ended...poorly for me if you hadn’t arrived.” Janiri paused, thinking over the messages they had received, both to try to remember what had stood out to her from them and to take her mind off of the fact she had nearly died without Karnoc’s help.

“Well, they can’t be any worse than me. If I remember correctly the engineer survived both the Sovereign attack on the Citadel, and when the Reapers brought it to earth. And the medic is a turian. They’re born to be excellent fighters. They’re like your people, only with discipline rather than redundant systems”

She winced at the implication again, stumbling over her words in her haste to cover it. “Not that the krogan can’t be disciplined! Obviously they’re more than just brutes! I mean, look at you! Not that you surprised me! You’re just-I’m just-I should go! That’s what I’m gonna do, I’m gonna go! Thanks again, bye!”

Blushing with embarrassment, still not meeting Karnoc’s eyes, Janiri turned back towards the city of Havana and beat a hasty retreat. She had managed to thank him, but by now she believed her foot was so far in her mouth that it would take the team’s new medic to pull it out. Gods, she could never just stop talking. She should have messaged him. That would have been easier.

Karnoc watched Janiri scramble away, somehow inflicting more mental damage to herself than Sigma had physically a few days prior. “Heh. Nice kid.” the krogan chuckled, turning back to the vigil of monitoring the water. It was just as uninteresting as beforehand.

So a turian medic? Karnoc never considered that turians practiced medicine, an irrational part of him always just assumed turians were like krogan that forgot to nuke themselves to the stone age and lacked the physical robustness to not bother with anything that didn’t resemble a firearm. Their bedside manner was probably abhorrent, probably blaming the patient for getting sick or something equally rigid and humourless.

The engineer probably lived in the ventilation system if they somehow survived two seperate Reaper infestations on the Citadel. Hide and seek might keep you alive, but the krogan wasn’t entirely sure how it was somehow more notable than fighting the Reapers on the battlefield each and every day; Karnoc had once narrowly avoided getting impaled by a Banshee by shoving a primed grenade into its stupid, shrieking maw one time, and a Brute shoved him through two separate walls before a squadmate brought it down with a missile. Everyone had simply survived the war, so he hoped the newcomers brought something to the table that was actually useful for their damned jobs.

The waves seemed to retreat further away from Karnoc’s feet. He grunted disapprovingly.

“Come on. Do something.”

Mass Effect: Vigil

Karnoc had been caught up in an exchange of intense gunfire with several of the drell when a voice came to his side.

"Get down, Mr. krogan!" A biotic blur crossed his vision followed by a spectacular visceral explosion, red mist and gibbets of gore and charred composite materials splattered into the krogan's armour, prompting him to take cover and try to clear his helmet's lenses. "Ugh. Who or what was that?" he demanded to no one in particular. Someone on his team had sacrificed themselves to save him from some kind of explosive, which only invigorated Karnoc to fight these damned drell harder.

Having enough vision returned, he sprung up, ready to begin firing when something peculiar happened...

The drell were all laid out on the ground, comatose, as if their puppet master snipped their strings and decided they weren't fun to play with anymore.

"Huh." Karnoc muttered, shaking his head as the rest of the team hurried along to take care of the drell. He instead went to the large chunks of his dead comrade in arms and began to search the body. He recognized the armour as belonging to one of the human males in the squad, but the name eluded him. By chance, he happened across the charred but miraculously still mostly intact dog tags about what must have been his upper torso and plucked it free. "Bauer." Karnoc read with a nod. "Thanks. I'll make sure your clan knows of your sacrifice."

Yelling and screaming drew the krogan's attention and ire and he looked up to see the distraction team running full bore to escape from something. Within a few moments, that something turned out being a Collector. Karnoc had never seen one of the bastards in person, let alone fight them, but he heard stories.

"You are one ugly-" he growled before stopping, the buzzing sounds of seeker swarms filling the air. "Shit."

Bolting away towards hard cover, Karnoc found a metallic scrap of some ancient vessel and pried off as large of a sheet of metal as he could and reinforced his fortification and shields as he held the metal as more of a visual barrier and deterrent than an actual bit of protection against the swarm. Ugly flying bugs caught his eye as they washed over and around him and the others on the team, their attempts to break through at the flesh beneath layers of armour and shields feeble but ultimately worrying as bit by bit they were wearing it down. As soon as it began, it stopped. It wasn't like the reports from the Collectors hitting human colonies where a giant ship and an army of the alien bugs had a seemingly infinite supply of seekers; it was likely a small collection belonging to one or more individual leaders. That meant its focus was limited, as were its resources.

It was time to hunt.

Karnoc looked down at the Ranger tag hanging from his Striker and grinned. The dumb dog would have fearlessly run into this Locust and took what it wanted. He decided that the Locust's head was going to be mounted in the canteen when they got back.

Swapping to his Graal, the Krogan tossed the sheet of worn out metal aside and held down the trigger, lining up sights with the torso of the Collector as the thresher maw-slaying metal spike was fabricated within the weapon. The weapon recoiled significantly as it fired its payload, the report from the shot ringing off of the hulls of the ships around them with a deafening boom. He strode towards the Collector, firing shots as fast as the weapon could product them as he closed the distance with the beast. He laughed the entire time.

Mass Effect: Vigil

Karnoc was beginning to hate shuttles. It felt like he had been stuffed in one a few days prior and now he was crammed with an assortment of other SRN warriors. The asari across from him seemed like she was about to piss herself in fear; even if her face was concealed, her rigid body language reminded the krogan of prey animals freezing up so a predator wouldn't take notice of her. The fun part of the entire situation was that gunfire didn't particularly care how scared or brave you were in the accursed flying death trap; screaming flying metal coffins tended to attract a lot of attention and sometimes bullets found their way inside to greet the occupants.

In a sense, Karnoc could understand why one might be afraid in this situation, helpless with zero agency in how to protect oneself, putting your life in the hands of a pilot who may or may not be drinking. Who could know in that sealed cockpit? The passenger compartment could violently decompress in space and the pilots would be totally fine and comfortable, and other than a blinking warning light and maybe annoying buzzer letting them know that something was catastrophically wrong, but it's not like pilots gave a shit; they didn't stay and fight. They probably didn't know how to shoot a gun. Talking to a pilot in a bar was pretty much the same song and dance; none of them had a plan if a krogan headbutted them.

They were boring and insufferable.

Karnoc felt a predatory satisfaction when the shuttle touched down and the gull doors flung open. Gunfire cracked the air and impacts kicked up dirt and mud around them. His adrenaline rush flowed through his veins, pumping some kind of chemical cocktail through his armour to augment his innate krogan battle lust that the squishy races called a "blood rage" as their bowels probably erupted violently at the thought of the untamed and brutal krogan breaking every bone in their bodies, even if they were allies. He charged into the fray to clear the landing zone, stray shots being absorbed harmlessly into his shields. A lesser krogan would be confident in their armour and shields and their own physical superiority to protect them from death; those krogan were largely all dead. A saying Karnoc had heard was that a poor craftsman blamed his tools for fucking up a project; personally, Karnoc preferred to think that his tools were going to betray him at any given time and burn the entire house down. Perhaps the genophage had made him cynical, he reflected as a high-impact shot smashed into his chest rig. The HUD in his visor told him his shield strength was at 64%. Probably that damned sniper.

He took cover behind the husk of a dead seafaring vessel, shots following him like an overeager drummer rapping into the metal bulkhead beside him. Katya, the human commander of the team called out, "Someone take out that scaffolding! Drop the sand on them!"

Her accent was funny.

His capacitors had largely recharged his shields, so the krogan peered out and saw the scaffolding where the gunmen were using their elevation to rain fire down on the landing team. Karnoc looked down at his Striker, the dog tag jingling almost playfully from the grip. He didn't quite believe in fate, but sometimes the universe liked to line things up just so nicely.

"On it!" he confirmed, stepping out from cover and shouldering the weapon. Taking aim at the scaffolding, his visor showing the weapon's crosshair placement, Karnoc squeezed the trigger and felt the hearty thumps of recoil into his shoulder as he professionally held the weapon steady, a slow firing stream of explosive rounds finding the support beams of the scaffolding and exploding in micro-filament blasts, the metal struts tearing apart from the sudden destructive force. The drell standing on the scaffolding either held on or tried to leap onto something solid as the structure began to crumble around them. The defenders beneath were smothered in entirely too much sand to be considered a mere annoyance; Karnoc wouldn't be surprised if there were crushed lizards under the sand.

The asari fighter Karnoc took notice of earlier had brought a combat drone into the fight and she was barking instructions that seemed woefully out of touch with reality.

"Okay, ten hostiles. Shoot to surpress, do not kill. They're under some sort of mind control, so it's not really they're fault." Janiri called out, taking cover. "Not that they seem to care that we're not trying to kill them. Stay low. Peekaboo tactics."

"Did you miss the dragon's teeth that are littered about like street lights?" Karnoc challenged. "If these idiots stumbled across Reaper tech, they're already lost! Don't hesitate; kill them."

To emphasize he fired another burst from his Striker at some entrenched defenders, sand and metal kicking up around them. He heard a scream.

"I HOPE YOUR PERFECT MEMORY REMINDS YOU OF THAT FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIFE, IDIOT!" he bellowed out towards the drell.

Just then, Janiri received a biotic blast that knocked her on her ass. She flailed to defend herself from a drell charging towards her with a shotgun to finish her off. Karnoc's teeth grit as he felt his blood rage fill him. Remembering to activate his fortification, his armour shimmered with bright hexagonal energy lattice and he bellowed as he stormed across the open ground. The drell pivoted and shot at him twice with the shotgun, his shields flickering from the impact that took him down to 18% capacity before he grabbed the drell by his chest armour and drove him into a steel beam a few meters away. Something cracked from the brutal impact; not bothering to see if the drell was incapacitated, the krogan's omnitool activated and the microfabricator produced the ballistic blades that launched with blistering speed into the drell's chest, piercing through his armour and internal organs.

Letting the drell go, Karnoc stomped over to the asari, the drell still stood upright, only dropping like a sack when the ballistic blades disintegrated in a shrapnel burst. He grabbed Janiri by the arm and pulled her up to her feet.

"Do not hesitate, asari; kill!" he growled. He shoved the shotgun she dropped back into her chest. "You did not survive the damned Reapers to die like a fool to some weak-willed toads! Your people are known for their commandos; prove it!" he said, flinching from a sudden salvo of gunfire to his back. He used his body to shield Janiri before turning to return fire.

"You're going to wish you were back on your dead homeworld, drell!" Karnoc bellowed out, returning fire and advancing.

Mass Effect: Vigil

Cape Town, South Africa

“What is this… thing?”
Earth was still a smoldering wreckage of a planet after the Reapers had rolled through. It had been scarcely a month since the Battle of London and the decisive victory over the Reaper threat. Crews worked across the globe in clean-up efforts as well as trying to establish what might as well be permanent residences for the alien coalition that was trapped on the human homeworld and the Sol System in general. For Urdnot Karnoc, the post-war weeks were a strange sense of emptiness; he’d been fighting for as long as he could remember and he’d survived the most important war in galactic history, but now there was nothing to fight and krogan and aliens alike had to figure out what exactly came next.

For many, it was a humbling experience being brought to the same level of listlessness and lack of authority as former rivals and enemies, and there were no shortage of stories of people turning to banditry or trying to stake a claim on this rock. Karnoc wasn’t much interested in staying on Earth, however. Someone would figure out how to make the relays work again and he’d be able to return to Tuchanka as a celebrated hero, undergo his Rite of Honour to sire children, and bring forth the next generation of krogan.

But for now, he was in no hurry. Krogan could live for centuries and he was astonished that Earth was so gentle and not at all dangerous. Lush green fields and trees seemed like mirages until he ran his hands through their foliage. Animals scattered and ran when they saw him instead of trying to feast upon him, and the air was disturbingly pure. No wonder why humans were so small and squishy; they didn’t have to fight to live. It was a mystery of why it was a human named Shepard who seemed to single-handedly restore order and peace to the galaxy, including cure the Genophage and bring the krogan redemption. The savior of Karnoc’s people wouldn’t have been human if Karnoc had to wager a guess, but the galaxy was full of mysteries and wonder… including the strange four-legged, shaggy-furred creature wagging its tail at him and looking at him with dumb, vacant brown eyes and floppy ears that weren’t at all suited for listening for predators.

One of the human engineers stopped welding, lifting his visor from the girder he was perched upon. “What, the dog? It’s a pet.”

The krogan stared at the ‘dog’, who barked excitedly. “What, it doesn’t try to rip out your throat or attack you if you show any signs of submission?” he asked.

The human laughed. “Oh, no. They’re friendly and love to be around people, for the most part. Occasionally you get a bad owner who abuses it and it acts out, but by and large they’re just loving companions that humans have domesticated tens of thousands of years ago.”
The dog was sniffing at Karnoc’s armour. “Go away! You’re uglier than a varren. Where is your grit, dog?”

“I think he wants one of the bones on your armour.” The human pointed out, now focused entirely on the scene before him.

“My bones…” Karnoc repeated, looking down at the dog, which was now making a grab for one of the lower hanging trophies. He shooed the thing off with a meaty hand. “I admire your spirit, little warrior, but you need to earn your trophies, you can’t simply take them!”

The dog just wagged its tail and barked excitedly.

The sound of a Kodiac shuttle filled the air before it was seen and it touched down not far from the work site. A man in Systems Alliance uniform stepped out of the gull-wing door and walked over to the workers. “I’m told that Urdnot Karnoc is present and currently assigned to this work group?” he asked. Karnoc studied the man; scarred face, several days’ worth of facial stubble, no-nonsense gaze. Didn’t look like the kind of person who pushed around a datapad for hours and pretended they were a soldier.

“Who’s asking?” Karnoc demanded.

“Lieutenant Janzen, Sol Restoration Network. My superiors are interested in your credentials and record and think you would be an ideal candidate for our crisis reaction teams. Your profile suggests you aren’t the kind of man who appreciates throwing around rubble for hours a day; you’re a fighter. We could use that.”
Karnoc tilted his heavy-crested head curiously. “War’s over. This means some of the survivors are fighting over the scraps?”

“Something like that.”

“Let me grab my kit. At least it’ll get me away from this… dog.” The krogan grumbled. He felt something small tap up against him and he turned around to see the dog laying nearby, one of the low-laying bones in his mouth, chewing on it contentedly.

Karnoc strode over and picked the animal up with one hand, which the dog didn’t seem to mind. It chewed defiantly in front of his face. The krogan noticed a collar about his neck and a bone-shaped tag with the word Ranger on it. He starred at the dog.

The dog wagged its tail.

“Hrmm.” Karnoc grunted.

---

Nambia

The Kodiac landed in the designated landing zone for the SRN’s encampment and Karnoc eagerly hopped out; he was not a fan of being stuck in a tight metal box with people who were all too happy to indulge in idle banter. The two marines escorting Karnoc and Janzen were talking excitedly about things returning to normal, like some stupid game called football, or standing in a crowd with a bunch of idiots listening to people who decided instruments were how they wanted to be immortalized rather than martial prowess. More than once, he eyed the door latch and considered if he could take the fall. He was a krogan; of course he could. He just didn’t feel much like walking for weeks across grasslands or deserts to get to the same place a few hours of travel could accomplish with these yapping pyjaks. Krogan were resilient, but they had limits. The trip was testing Karnoc’s.

One of the ground crew that was unloading the cargo compartment came around with a hauler. “Here you are, sir. Your equipment. I always wanted to shoot a Striker, but local zoning limits on explosive munitions… is this a dog collar around the grip?” the man asked incredulously.

“It took one of my trophies, so I took one of his. It seemed fair.” Karnoc replied, grabbing the weapon and his crate to walk to the designated registration tent.

“Please don’t tell me you killed it!” The marine shouted back.

“Relax, you whining pyjak; the dog had a warrior’s spirit and I was informed that the collar was a form of indentured servitude. No brave and free soul deserves to live its days in shackles, even if it’s repulsive and obnoxious.” Karnoc replied. “That thing around your neck is called a dog tag for a reason!”

“Son of a bitch.” The marine grunted, turning back to the other crew.

Karnoc arrived to the clerk, who looked at him and his impressive assortment of trophies. “Urdnot Karnoc, I presume?” she asked, a dark-hided woman with short hair and a pleasant accent that he learned was from the region.

“Yup. Heard you needed someone to break stuff.” He replied.

“Head down the main ‘street’, there’s a pre-fab with the name Serova. That’s your new quarters. We understand krogan have more private space requirements than other species, and we did the best to accommodate that, but you will be up with a variety of other specialists from different species. From your profile, it suggests that won’t be an issue.”

The krogan shrugged. “Let me guess, janitor’s closet?”

The woman nodded back. “Janitor’s closet.”

“I’ve slept in worse.” He said, proceeding to find his new home for the next few days. In the distance, he heard something barking. His eyes narrowed, the Ranger tag jingling next to his ear.

“Shit.”

Mass Effect: Vigil

<Snipped quote by Dervish>

I don't think having someone as abrasive as Sol is really an award, sadly.

@Stormflyx

Tuchanka is the planet of the abrasive people. They'll be thick as thieves.

Mass Effect: Vigil

Urdnot Karnoc, "Door Crasher"

"What part of 'I am krogan' seemed subtle to you?"

	Urdnot Karnoc | Callsign “Door Crasher” 2.2 meters/ 7.2 feet | 180 kilos/ 397 pounds | 75 Urdnot Territory, Tuchanka Krogan | Soldier

Profile

---

APPEARANCE◢

An impressively statured krogan, Karnoc is a powerful figure of above-average proportions and mass that serve him well as a shock trooper, physically dominating the battlefield and an absolute nightmare in close-quarters fighting. Other than his heavily-muscled frame and towering stature, he has a tan hide and dark grey crest that tapers off to a yellow. Under his crest a pair of piercing amber eyes that always seem to be darting about, looking for threats and challenges. No obvious scarring or markings are present in his frame due to the regeneration factor present with krogan.

Karnoc makes no effort to be subtle or subdued, he is a presence to be known wherever go goes. Heavy footfalls, a confident and boisterous attitude, and a ferocious determination make him impossible to miss, although behind the explosive exterior is a quick-thinking and introspective mind that has served him and his comrades well through a lifetime of war.

MOTIVATIONS AND OUTLOOK◢

Karnoc is motivated by a sense of pride in krogan potential and overcoming seemingly insurmountable obstacles to better himself and his species. He sees the trials and challenges that himself and the krogan face as yet another Rite to overcome, and the difference between simply being born and overcoming the genophage and giant monsters is a trivial distinction; it proves an individual’s worth.

Karnoc believes in what the krogan are capable of under the guidance and leadership of krogan who have their best interests at heart and he believes for the krogan to thrive, they need to rise up to be equals to other species in the galaxy. To him, the genophage and the Krogan Rebellions were the result of his people being “uplifted” by manipulative aliens who never understood what they were dealing with and weaponized a people who were still struggling to find their own path. The Reaper War was a chance to kill off old grudges and bad blood and forge a new path for all people, and it is his determination to see that the krogan don’t make the same mistakes as before while ensuring that others learn to treat them with understanding and respect, or history will repeat itself in a galaxy that will not be ready for the repercussions.

BACKGROUND◢

Within a clutch of krogan eggs, the viability of a live-birth is exceptionally low; only about 1 in 2,000 eggs will hatch, and for a mother who had tried for years to produce an offspring, her fortunes finally changed. Among the dozen or so eggs in her latest clutch, one began to stir. With hopeful eyes upon it, a pair of amber eyes matching the mother broke free of its confinement, and the infant boy had passed his first Rite of Passage; the Rite of Life. His mother picked him up from the dead and invalid remains encased in the tombs of their shells, never to know Tuchanka’s sun and hardships. The first word he ever heard would be his name; Karnoc.

The young krogan was immediately thrust into a world where violence and survival were a way of life. Tuchanka was a planet scorched by nuclear hellfire, any signs of vegetation or peace were fleeting, but Karnoc was raised to know that his people were warriors, survivors, and that life was a constant hardship that you had to rise against. Those who withstood the challenges survived and became powerful, and those who did not perished. It was a fatalistic outlook shared by all krogan that reflected that they were a people on the decline; the krogan would be a brilliant flash of light before succumbing to the dark the way they were going, but none seemed willing to change their trajectory. Karnoc certainly wasn’t; all that mattered to him was bettering himself and focusing on each day’s trials than some lofty impossible dream of the future. After all, he had a Rite of Passage to survive.

Having assembled a krantt of trusted comrades who were also seeking to undergo their own Rite of Passage for Clan Urdnot, Karnoc prepared for a battle of proportions he could have scarcely prepared for. A thresher maw was a colossal creature capable of pulling a tomkah armoured fighting vehicle under the surface, quite a far cry from battling packs of varren or the klixen hordes that dotted Tuchanka’s landscape, and the Rite of Passage demanded a krogan survive five minutes battling the beast. It was the fight of a lifetime, fending off beasts attracted by the mechanical percussion of pistons that served to agitate and draw in a thresher maw, and when Karnoc was becoming convinced that it wasn’t going to show, it burst from the ground before him, taking a pair of varren that threatened to overwhelm him.

Bellowing a defiant war cry, the krantt unleashed hell into the serpent-liked monstrosity, visceral chunks of flesh and fluid being ripped from its massive frame with high-caliber munitions… for all the good it did. No matter how many shotguns were shot to overheating, how many heavy rifles began to misfire from near-constant fire, no matter how many grenades were tossed at the thresher maw, it barely seemed to notice the harm inflicted on it and by the time the Ritesmaster called the krogan off from the proving grounds, it felt like they had barely escaped with their lives. However, with damaged equipment and an assortment of wounds, including a mangled arm from a varren that had latched onto Karnoc while he was trying to fix a malfunction with his shotgun, the four krogan in the krantt emerged victorious as new members of Clan Urdnot. Fashioning the varren’s fangs into a necklace and painting his armour with paint mixed with the blood of the thresher maw that had covered Karnoc, the newly blooded warrior kept with him reminders of what he had risen above and what he would have to face.

It wasn’t long after that Karnoc found himself pulled into the mercenary life, following an Urdnot Battlemaster named Urgar who was looking for warriors to earn credits and infamy for their clan that simply wasn’t going to happen fighting other krogan clans. “Keep hitting a blade against a rock and it dulls, keep at it and it breaks. We krogan have broken so many blades on each other; we’re better than that.” Urgar explained. It resonated with Karnoc; despite his belief that right made right, it was impossible not to look upon the ruins on Tuchanka and diminishing numbers of their species with distain. The krogan had been heroes once upon a time to the galaxy, and instead of overcoming adversity, allowed themselves to grow into weak and squabbling savages on a dying world that seemed incapable of healing.

While most krogan perhaps rightfully held deep seated animosity towards the salarians and turians for their role in the genophage, Karnoc held a somewhat more philosophical view towards it; was it not just another Rite that the krogan had to pass? Nothing in life was meant to be easy; everything needed to be a challenge to overcome. Being a sole survivor of a clutch of eggs or undergoing any other rite was a dangerous and often fatal experience. Did the shamans of the tribes not subject themselves to physical and mental trials that pushed them to their very limits to earn their right to be the clans’ spiritual leaders? Karnoc saw no glory or purpose in spilling the blood of other krogan for scraps. To him, fighting alongside a krantt to defeat an enemy was an honour. His Rite of Passage would have been impossible to survive alone, and the deafening silence of his unborn brothers and sisters never was far from his mind. When the krogan fought the rachni, they were heroes that the galaxy heralded. Too many krogan brooded over what was done to the species instead of uniting to overcome it and their enemies.

Karnoc would be better. It was time for the ideas of the old battlemasters to die with their stubbornness; he would lead by example.
For decades, Karnoc fought in Urgar’s mercenary band, even being named to Urgar’s personal krantt. The band fought pirates and slavers, protected fringe colonies, protected VIPs, and clashed with other mercenary bands. For each new enemy faced, Karnoc went through a Rite of Firsts, and he would incorporate a part of that enemy into his armour or weapons, adding beasts’ teeth and claws to his necklace, welding dog tags to his pauldrons, and the like. If a better piece of technology came into his possession, he would incorporate it into his equipment, although his krogan-manufactured firearms still were his primary weapons. Over the years, Karnoc had begun to earn a reputation distinct from Urgar, he was seen as a reliable and honourable warrior, albeit one capable of shocking brutality if need be.

When humanity was discovered in 2157CE, Karnoc recalled he was in a bar on a station out in volus space that seemed positively abuzz with equal parts fear and excitement about the new first contact in centuries that their turian benefactors were off to war with. Although, “war” seemed to be an overly generous way to describe the conflict; Karnoc felt like he barely had time to finish one of several rounds of drinks before the ceasefire was called, although it was in reality a conflict that lasted about a month. Certainly not enough time to get riled up over, let alone travel the expanse of space to go take part in. Karnoc watched humanity’s rapid progression with equal parts interest and envy; they were the Citadel’s new favorite pets that would be tossed down like the krogan when their ambition outran their rope. When tensions flared between humans and batarians, Karnoc watched on as the batarians whined and left the Citadel and subsequently attacked human colonies, only serving to further humanity’s interests. They were an interesting people; they seemed to have a knack of knowing when to push and when to restrain themselves to their benefit. The krogan could have learned a thing or two from humanity following the Rachni Wars, Karnoc decided. Restraint was something krogan lacked, and clearly foresight.

And besides, the humans seemed to really annoy the turians. That was reason enough to like them.

After the geth attack on the Citadel, Karnoc found a newfound purpose in the form of Urdnot Wrex leading the clan. He spoke of reconciliation and alliances with the various krogan clans, focusing on strengthening the species and actually doing something about managing the genophage. Karnoc returned to Tuchanka and pledged himself to Wrex’s reforms, enforcing them with force when need be.

It wasn’t long after that the Reaper invasion took the galaxy by storm and for Karnoc, it felt like it was the ultimate Rite that had no name; this war would determine the fate of every single living soul in the galaxy. It felt like that old blood feuds were largely forgotten in the face of the unfathomable foe they faced. When Karnoc heard that turians would be coming into an alliance with the krogan in exchange for a cure for the genophage, brokered by Commander Shepard, the Primarch of Palavan, and Urdnot Wrex himself, he was skeptical at best, and he’d believe it when he seen it.

Perhaps it was seeing turian fighters in the skies above Tuchanka raining munitions into towering Reaper monstrosities that began to give Karnoc pause, at least enough to lead search parties to rescue downed pilots from Reapers. Perhaps it was seeing Kalros take down a Reaper using the same sorts of pistons that drew his own thresher maw during his Rite of Passage that suggested that unity was possible. However, it was when the cure for the genophage emerged from the Shroud, a climate control tower, that Karnoc felt something that the krogan were missing as a people long before even his ancestors walked Tuchanka’s surface; hope. The horrors of the genophage was undone, and its perpetrators atoned for it. Karnoc had survived what he would call the Rite of Redemption. With renewed vigor and determination, Karnoc was among the first of the krogan to step foot on Palavan to fight alongside the turians against the Reapers, an alliance that proved to be surprisingly effective.

Even Karnoc had to admit that it was preferable to not have experienced what it was like on the receiving end of turian firepower like his ancestors had during the Krogan Rebellions, and he admired their discipline and courage to face overwhelming odds with superior training and tactics that never waned even as entire units were wiped out. The turians never complained that their homeworld was being destroyed; it was simply another war to fight no matter the cost. This commitment to total war and unshakable resolve endeared the turians to Karnoc, and he even befriended a young Lieutenant named Regalus over the course of the war, saving one another’s lives on a number of occasions and taking a genuine interest in each other’s lives and dreams. It was perhaps the first time Karnoc had befriended a member of another species, and was able to see the person despite all of that.

As the war raged on and losses mounted, Karnoc found pride in this galactic coalition. Krogan were honoured companions in battles, and they were becoming the heroes they were in the Rachni Wars in the galaxy’s eyes. As the war came to its conclusion on Earth, Karnoc landed upon the human homeworld as a liberator, not as a conqueror and crushed Reaper forces with his new krantt. As the Crucible fired and the Reapers crumbled before his eyes, Karnoc felt an overwhelming sense of satisfaction. The greatest enemy the krogan had ever faced had been vanquished and under Urdnot Wrex’s leadership, the krogan had reclaimed their place as galactic saviours and heroes. Only one problem remained, however.

How the hell was he getting back home?

Capabilities

---

FLAWS◢

Fear of Heights
Susceptible to Biotics
Stealth is “optional”

POWERS◢

Fortification
Adrenalin Rush
Ballistic Blades
Incendiary Ammo
Concussive Shot

ACCOMPLISHMENTS AND CRIMES◢

Rite of Life
Several Rite of Firsts
Rite of Redemption
Liberation of Palaven
Liberation of Earth

Decades of mercenary work, sometimes falling on the side of what would be considered illegal in Citadel space.

RELATIONS AND AFFILIATIONS◢

Urdnot Wrex, Clan Leader
Urdnot Urgar, Former Krantt Leader
Lt Regalus, Turian Comrade

OPINIONS◢

(For group members and NPCs; fill after IC introduction)

Inventory

---

CREDITS & VALUABLES◢ 1,000 Credits Lt. Regalus’ M3 Predator (damaged beyond use) Assorted remains and equipment of defeated adversaries	OUTFIT◢ Heavy Titan Armor
WEAPON & TOOLS◢ Striker Assault Rifle Graal Spike Thrower	CONSUMABLE◢ 3 Medigel 3 Fragmentation Grenades 3 Flash Grenades
ID & DOCUMENTS◢ None; Krogan don’t do paperwork	BAGS & CONTAINERS◢ Storage Case for personal belongings

Equipment Images

Titan Armour


Striker Assault Rifle


Graal Spike Thrower

Mass Effect: Vigil

I think Karnoc will actually be Sol's first friend.

Hear that, gang? The krogan gets the first friend award.

Mass Effect: Vigil

Urdnot Karnoc, "Door Crasher"

"What part of 'I am krogan' seemed subtle to you?"

	Urdnot Karnoc | Callsign “Door Crasher” 2.2 meters/ 7.2 feet | 180 kilos/ 397 pounds | 75 Urdnot Territory, Tuchanka Krogan | Soldier

Profile

---

APPEARANCE◢

An impressively statured krogan, Karnoc is a powerful figure of above-average proportions and mass that serve him well as a shock trooper, physically dominating the battlefield and an absolute nightmare in close-quarters fighting. Other than his heavily-muscled frame and towering stature, he has a tan hide and dark grey crest that tapers off to a yellow. Under his crest a pair of piercing amber eyes that always seem to be darting about, looking for threats and challenges. No obvious scarring or markings are present in his frame due to the regeneration factor present with krogan.

Karnoc makes no effort to be subtle or subdued, he is a presence to be known wherever go goes. Heavy footfalls, a confident and boisterous attitude, and a ferocious determination make him impossible to miss, although behind the explosive exterior is a quick-thinking and introspective mind that has served him and his comrades well through a lifetime of war.

MOTIVATIONS AND OUTLOOK◢

Karnoc is motivated by a sense of pride in krogan potential and overcoming seemingly insurmountable obstacles to better himself and his species. He sees the trials and challenges that himself and the krogan face as yet another Rite to overcome, and the difference between simply being born and overcoming the genophage and giant monsters is a trivial distinction; it proves an individual’s worth.

Karnoc believes in what the krogan are capable of under the guidance and leadership of krogan who have their best interests at heart and he believes for the krogan to thrive, they need to rise up to be equals to other species in the galaxy. To him, the genophage and the Krogan Rebellions were the result of his people being “uplifted” by manipulative aliens who never understood what they were dealing with and weaponized a people who were still struggling to find their own path. The Reaper War was a chance to kill off old grudges and bad blood and forge a new path for all people, and it is his determination to see that the krogan don’t make the same mistakes as before while ensuring that others learn to treat them with understanding and respect, or history will repeat itself in a galaxy that will not be ready for the repercussions.

BACKGROUND◢

Within a clutch of krogan eggs, the viability of a live-birth is exceptionally low; only about 1 in 2,000 eggs will hatch, and for a mother who had tried for years to produce an offspring, her fortunes finally changed. Among the dozen or so eggs in her latest clutch, one began to stir. With hopeful eyes upon it, a pair of amber eyes matching the mother broke free of its confinement, and the infant boy had passed his first Rite of Passage; the Rite of Life. His mother picked him up from the dead and invalid remains encased in the tombs of their shells, never to know Tuchanka’s sun and hardships. The first word he ever heard would be his name; Karnoc.

The young krogan was immediately thrust into a world where violence and survival were a way of life. Tuchanka was a planet scorched by nuclear hellfire, any signs of vegetation or peace were fleeting, but Karnoc was raised to know that his people were warriors, survivors, and that life was a constant hardship that you had to rise against. Those who withstood the challenges survived and became powerful, and those who did not perished. It was a fatalistic outlook shared by all krogan that reflected that they were a people on the decline; the krogan would be a brilliant flash of light before succumbing to the dark the way they were going, but none seemed willing to change their trajectory. Karnoc certainly wasn’t; all that mattered to him was bettering himself and focusing on each day’s trials than some lofty impossible dream of the future. After all, he had a Rite of Passage to survive.

Having assembled a krantt of trusted comrades who were also seeking to undergo their own Rite of Passage for Clan Urdnot, Karnoc prepared for a battle of proportions he could have scarcely prepared for. A thresher maw was a colossal creature capable of pulling a tomkah armoured fighting vehicle under the surface, quite a far cry from battling packs of varren or the klixen hordes that dotted Tuchanka’s landscape, and the Rite of Passage demanded a krogan survive five minutes battling the beast. It was the fight of a lifetime, fending off beasts attracted by the mechanical percussion of pistons that served to agitate and draw in a thresher maw, and when Karnoc was becoming convinced that it wasn’t going to show, it burst from the ground before him, taking a pair of varren that threatened to overwhelm him.

Bellowing a defiant war cry, the krantt unleashed hell into the serpent-liked monstrosity, visceral chunks of flesh and fluid being ripped from its massive frame with high-caliber munitions… for all the good it did. No matter how many shotguns were shot to overheating, how many heavy rifles began to misfire from near-constant fire, no matter how many grenades were tossed at the thresher maw, it barely seemed to notice the harm inflicted on it and by the time the Ritesmaster called the krogan off from the proving grounds, it felt like they had barely escaped with their lives. However, with damaged equipment and an assortment of wounds, including a mangled arm from a varren that had latched onto Karnoc while he was trying to fix a malfunction with his shotgun, the four krogan in the krantt emerged victorious as new members of Clan Urdnot. Fashioning the varren’s fangs into a necklace and painting his armour with paint mixed with the blood of the thresher maw that had covered Karnoc, the newly blooded warrior kept with him reminders of what he had risen above and what he would have to face.

It wasn’t long after that Karnoc found himself pulled into the mercenary life, following an Urdnot Battlemaster named Urgar who was looking for warriors to earn credits and infamy for their clan that simply wasn’t going to happen fighting other krogan clans. “Keep hitting a blade against a rock and it dulls, keep at it and it breaks. We krogan have broken so many blades on each other; we’re better than that.” Urgar explained. It resonated with Karnoc; despite his belief that right made right, it was impossible not to look upon the ruins on Tuchanka and diminishing numbers of their species with distain. The krogan had been heroes once upon a time to the galaxy, and instead of overcoming adversity, allowed themselves to grow into weak and squabbling savages on a dying world that seemed incapable of healing.

While most krogan perhaps rightfully held deep seated animosity towards the salarians and turians for their role in the genophage, Karnoc held a somewhat more philosophical view towards it; was it not just another Rite that the krogan had to pass? Nothing in life was meant to be easy; everything needed to be a challenge to overcome. Being a sole survivor of a clutch of eggs or undergoing any other rite was a dangerous and often fatal experience. Did the shamans of the tribes not subject themselves to physical and mental trials that pushed them to their very limits to earn their right to be the clans’ spiritual leaders? Karnoc saw no glory or purpose in spilling the blood of other krogan for scraps. To him, fighting alongside a krantt to defeat an enemy was an honour. His Rite of Passage would have been impossible to survive alone, and the deafening silence of his unborn brothers and sisters never was far from his mind. When the krogan fought the rachni, they were heroes that the galaxy heralded. Too many krogan brooded over what was done to the species instead of uniting to overcome it and their enemies.

Karnoc would be better. It was time for the ideas of the old battlemasters to die with their stubbornness; he would lead by example.
For decades, Karnoc fought in Urgar’s mercenary band, even being named to Urgar’s personal krantt. The band fought pirates and slavers, protected fringe colonies, protected VIPs, and clashed with other mercenary bands. For each new enemy faced, Karnoc went through a Rite of Firsts, and he would incorporate a part of that enemy into his armour or weapons, adding beasts’ teeth and claws to his necklace, welding dog tags to his pauldrons, and the like. If a better piece of technology came into his possession, he would incorporate it into his equipment, although his krogan-manufactured firearms still were his primary weapons. Over the years, Karnoc had begun to earn a reputation distinct from Urgar, he was seen as a reliable and honourable warrior, albeit one capable of shocking brutality if need be.

When humanity was discovered in 2157CE, Karnoc recalled he was in a bar on a station out in volus space that seemed positively abuzz with equal parts fear and excitement about the new first contact in centuries that their turian benefactors were off to war with. Although, “war” seemed to be an overly generous way to describe the conflict; Karnoc felt like he barely had time to finish one of several rounds of drinks before the ceasefire was called, although it was in reality a conflict that lasted about a month. Certainly not enough time to get riled up over, let alone travel the expanse of space to go take part in. Karnoc watched humanity’s rapid progression with equal parts interest and envy; they were the Citadel’s new favorite pets that would be tossed down like the krogan when their ambition outran their rope. When tensions flared between humans and batarians, Karnoc watched on as the batarians whined and left the Citadel and subsequently attacked human colonies, only serving to further humanity’s interests. They were an interesting people; they seemed to have a knack of knowing when to push and when to restrain themselves to their benefit. The krogan could have learned a thing or two from humanity following the Rachni Wars, Karnoc decided. Restraint was something krogan lacked, and clearly foresight.

And besides, the humans seemed to really annoy the turians. That was reason enough to like them.

After the geth attack on the Citadel, Karnoc found a newfound purpose in the form of Urdnot Wrex leading the clan. He spoke of reconciliation and alliances with the various krogan clans, focusing on strengthening the species and actually doing something about managing the genophage. Karnoc returned to Tuchanka and pledged himself to Wrex’s reforms, enforcing them with force when need be.

It wasn’t long after that the Reaper invasion took the galaxy by storm and for Karnoc, it felt like it was the ultimate Rite that had no name; this war would determine the fate of every single living soul in the galaxy. It felt like that old blood feuds were largely forgotten in the face of the unfathomable foe they faced. When Karnoc heard that turians would be coming into an alliance with the krogan in exchange for a cure for the genophage, brokered by Commander Shepard, the Primarch of Palavan, and Urdnot Wrex himself, he was skeptical at best, and he’d believe it when he seen it.

Perhaps it was seeing turian fighters in the skies above Tuchanka raining munitions into towering Reaper monstrosities that began to give Karnoc pause, at least enough to lead search parties to rescue downed pilots from Reapers. Perhaps it was seeing Kalros take down a Reaper using the same sorts of pistons that drew his own thresher maw during his Rite of Passage that suggested that unity was possible. However, it was when the cure for the genophage emerged from the Shroud, a climate control tower, that Karnoc felt something that the krogan were missing as a people long before even his ancestors walked Tuchanka’s surface; hope. The horrors of the genophage was undone, and its perpetrators atoned for it. Karnoc had survived what he would call the Rite of Redemption. With renewed vigor and determination, Karnoc was among the first of the krogan to step foot on Palavan to fight alongside the turians against the Reapers, an alliance that proved to be surprisingly effective.

Even Karnoc had to admit that it was preferable to not have experienced what it was like on the receiving end of turian firepower like his ancestors had during the Krogan Rebellions, and he admired their discipline and courage to face overwhelming odds with superior training and tactics that never waned even as entire units were wiped out. The turians never complained that their homeworld was being destroyed; it was simply another war to fight no matter the cost. This commitment to total war and unshakable resolve endeared the turians to Karnoc, and he even befriended a young Lieutenant named Regalus over the course of the war, saving one another’s lives on a number of occasions and taking a genuine interest in each other’s lives and dreams. It was perhaps the first time Karnoc had befriended a member of another species, and was able to see the person despite all of that.

As the war raged on and losses mounted, Karnoc found pride in this galactic coalition. Krogan were honoured companions in battles, and they were becoming the heroes they were in the Rachni Wars in the galaxy’s eyes. As the war came to its conclusion on Earth, Karnoc landed upon the human homeworld as a liberator, not as a conqueror and crushed Reaper forces with his new krantt. As the Crucible fired and the Reapers crumbled before his eyes, Karnoc felt an overwhelming sense of satisfaction. The greatest enemy the krogan had ever faced had been vanquished and under Urdnot Wrex’s leadership, the krogan had reclaimed their place as galactic saviours and heroes. Only one problem remained, however.

How the hell was he getting back home?

Capabilities

---

FLAWS◢

Fear of Heights
Susceptible to Biotics
Stealth is “optional”

POWERS◢

Fortification
Adrenalin Rush
Ballistic Blades
Incendiary Ammo
Concussive Shot

ACCOMPLISHMENTS AND CRIMES◢

Rite of Life
Several Rite of Firsts
Rite of Redemption
Liberation of Palaven
Liberation of Earth

Decades of mercenary work, sometimes falling on the side of what would be considered illegal in Citadel space.

RELATIONS AND AFFILIATIONS◢

Urdnot Wrex, Clan Leader
Urdnot Urgar, Former Krantt Leader
Lt Regalus, Turian Comrade

OPINIONS◢

(For group members and NPCs; fill after IC introduction)

Inventory

---

CREDITS & VALUABLES◢ 1,000 Credits Lt. Regalus’ M3 Predator (damaged beyond use) Assorted remains and equipment of defeated adversaries	OUTFIT◢ Heavy Titan Armor
WEAPON & TOOLS◢ Striker Assault Rifle Graal Spike Thrower	CONSUMABLE◢ 3 Medigel 3 Fragmentation Grenades 3 Flash Grenades
ID & DOCUMENTS◢ None; Krogan don’t do paperwork	BAGS & CONTAINERS◢ Storage Case for personal belongings

Equipment Images

Titan Armour


Striker Assault Rifle


Graal Spike Thrower

Mass Effect: Vigil

Oh goodness it's two of my favorite writing buddies in one package with a franchise I love as much as krogan love ryncol.

Imma do it.