Antediluvixen — Roleplayer Guild

Name: Firuzeh Khoroushi
Race: Human
Sex: Female
Age: 27
Class: Sentinel - Semi qualified doctor, cybernetic scientist, cook 

Firuzeh stands at about 173cm with a muscular but at first seemingly soft frame that, while not exactly that of a seasoned soldier, shows she is no stranger to exertion. She has relatively smooth olive skin, occasionally marred by a small scar - be it a burn, cut from a mishap with some tool or another, or anything else of that nature. If one were to closely examine where skin meets synthetic material on her right shoulder it would become plainly apparent that her decision to have the arm replaced was not an unnecessary one - the tissue is distorted and ugly, almost burned in appearance, with heavy duty connections visible protruding from her skin and connecting to the arm. 

Her right arm has been replaced in its entirety, including the shoulder, with a high quality cybernetic, carbon nanotube muscles plainly apparent where laminated graphene plates do not cover. Rather than hide the appearance of the bionic limb, she flaunts it proudly, even going so far as to have laser etched one of the plates covering the area her bicep with her initials and various other designs. The cybernetics are present elsewhere in her body, but are all subcutaneous and far less overt in their effects, primarily skeletal reinforcement to prevent her from breaking her own ribs with the power of the arm. 

Firuzeh keeps her hair in a tight braid tucked away while on the job, but in her free time she leaves it loose and flowing. Her hair is dark, wavy, and thick- reaching a little past shoulder length. She has eyes of a minty green hue, seeming warm and welcoming, but with a hard edge to them if one looks closely enough. A small scar runs the distance from her lower lip to her chin, and her nose is bent at a permanent angle, though this serves more to give her a rambunctious swashbuckling air than anything else.

Firuzeh was born in Isfahan, Iran, to a family with a long and illustrious history of working in the medical profession, with accomplishments ranging back centuries, and a few relatives even popping up in medical history books. In fact, joining the medical profession had become such a universal career in her family, with a few black sheep now and then choosing to become  generals, inventors, or kebab merchants in Tehran, that the usual response to a baby on the way was to speculate on what discipline the child would enter, rather than the sex or personality of the baby. 

From day one, Firuzeh was gently pushed towards medicine, and while she took to the subject fairly well, most children would have had they been steeped in the medical world since the day they could walk. Every family reunion was marked by questions into prospective fields she wanted to enter, if she wanted to visit her aunt’s workplace for a day, or the occasional excessively detailed retelling of a particularly grueling surgery. 

But moreso than medicine, she took to history in her early life, from a young age rushing to explore the ancient ruins of past civilizations that dotted the landscape of Iran, near obsessively engrossing herself in books about the civilizations that used to dominate the land, ancient battles that dictated the fates of empires, and more. Far more than any of the numerous attempts to pull her deeper into the medical profession, this love for history engendered a love of learning - about anything - in her, alongside a fierce thirst for adventure and exploration. Exploring the insides of someone’s diseased heart was interesting, but she felt the lure of the unexplored galaxy. When news reached her at age eight of the First Contact War, it drove this lust for exploration into overdrive, and for a time she completely abandoned any pretense of wanting to be a doctor, instead boldy proclaiming she would be the galaxy’s best explorer - in ten years at any rate.

Throughout all of the exitement, she lead a mostly normal life like most any other child, reading, learning to cook, making friends, and playing games of all sorts. 

As she grew older, she was faced with a decision. Deep inside she still longed to explore, but the reality of the world had settled on her shoulders, and she no longer thought exploring the galaxy would be something she could do. She was a city girl with a rich family who’d been groomed for medical work her entire life, not fit to fight in a galaxy chock full of danger and machine guns pointed her direction. Eventually, she followed her family’s lead and was admitted to university a year early, a classic overachiever, having decided (with some sadness) that she would become a surgeon. 

Despite her misgivings, she handled university as well as could be expected, earning a master’s in cybernetic technology - something sufficiently advanced to impress her extended family, bachelor’s in toxicology. In addition, she recieved extensive training as a paramedic: learning to set broken bones, basic field surgery, and other things, - it would certainly help if she ever did become an adventurer, a dream she still entertained. 

However, she was not content to stay put, and when an opportunity presented itself - a field research opportunity on the colony of Elysium, she jumped at the chance. 

She made her way for the colony, eager to begin work that seemed right up her alley. They were there to test out a new generation of cybernetic enhancements on any willing colonists, as a colonist with the strength to tip shuttles on her own had self evident advantages over the original model. Coupled with the beautiful scenery of Elysium, and it was nearly perfect. 

She even met nonhumans there, with the occasional turian or Asari popping up, and she forged a friendship with a quarian on her pilgrimage, nearly driving her insane with incessant questions about life in the migrant fleet, and anything she’d seen on her pilgrimage. With said quarian as a mostly voluntary guinea pig, she figured out how to adapt dextro food paste, and actual dextro foods, to Persian recipes she’d learned from her black sheep kebab merchant of an uncle. It wasn’t an exact copy, or anything close to it, but the fact that she could cook with dextro ingredients excited her to no end, like most every other new thing she encountered. 

Then the Skyllian Blitz began. 

Initially, she tried to stay out of the fighting, hunkering down in the research lab with the other scientists, happy to let the professional fighters hold off the pirates and slavers. However, her patience wore thin, and as the defenses wore thin she snapped one day, seizing a Carnifex off a dead pirate who had mae it a little farther than most and rushed to aid in whatever way she could. Whenever the pistol overheated she would compensate with biotics - having never recieved more than rudimentary training, she had little control - at times barely scratching her target, at others nearly rendering them into a fine paste. The bloodshed shocked her at first, but she began to develop a steely shell against it, coming to see the batarians that assaulted her home as little more than moving targets than actual living beings. At some point she acquired her Mattock, and developed a fondness for applying the butt of the weapon to the face of any pirate unfortunate enough to close to melee range with her. 

However, her luck ran out one day. A particularly well hidden batarian sniper packing a Kishock landed a hit squarely on her, thankfully missing her vital organs, but completely sundering her right arm from her body. She still doesn’t remember much of the incident, beyond a dull impact on her shoulder, and waking up two days later with an arm that had significantly more graphene plating than the one that had been there before. Her colleagues had saved her life, at great personal risk, with her quarian friend risking heavy machine gun fire to bring her bleeding body into the lab, where they grafted the cybernetic to her in an emergency surgery, as well as replacing much of the shoulder it had to attach to. 

Despite her own knowledge and the desperate attempts of the lab staff to stop her, she had dragged herself outside again to continue fighting. She didn’t have the energy to run from place to place, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t shoot at anything stupid enough to pop its head up within her sights. 

In an ironic twist, her foolhardy decision to continue fighting rather than resting saved her life. Something, she didn’t know what, hit the lab, leaving it a smoldering ruin strewn with body parts and priceless equipment. She thought the deaths of countless soldiers and pirates had hardened her, but the loss of everybody she had come to love and care for over the months on Elysium hit her like a sledgehammer, and she collapsed next to the burning wreckage, what little energy she had left evaporating in an instant. 

She didn’t move from the area for a whole day, when an armored gauntlet grabbed her by the shoulder. Expecting a Batarian, she accepted her fate, dropping the rifle she had been clutching, only to be faced with a tired looking Alliance marine. 

Miraculously, she had survived, despite everything. But she had nothing left. No job, no friends - only dull ache and the same thirst for adventure - though it was more a thirst for vengeance now. She had spent a few days recuperating, trying to come to terms with the loss of everyone she had come to know - but it never came. Burying her grief, she staggered out of the ruined colony on a packed shuttle, but unlike the rest of the shuttle’s occupants she was not returning to earth - far from it. Something had awakened on the planet, a more bloodthirsty side of her. She enjoyed burying a bayonet into the jugular of a slaver, revelled in the adrenaline. But also a sense of fear over returning home. Her work was destroyed, she had nothing to show for it. 

And so she did the only thing that seemed illogical, putting out feelers for any freelance work, be it legal or otherwise. She had nothing to call home beyond a planet now light years away, a planet that offered nothing but safety and comfort. 

So, on Elysium she stayed - after a brief foray into orbit, helping with the rebuilding and taking whatever odd jobs came her way.

Equipment:

M-6 Carnifex - It’s a Carnifex, no more explanation is needed.
M-96 Mattock with omni-blade bayonet. A semi automatic battle rifle might seem an odd choice for a fighter favoring CQB over anything else, but the rifle’s hard hitting punch and sturdy construction make it excellent for forceful application to the faces of opposing forces.
Heavy Hazard Armor - In case of environmental hazards. Like toxins. Or high velocity tungsten poisoning.
Solaris II Bio-Amp
Polaris Omni-Tool
Excessive supplies of medi-gel and various diagnostic tools for monitoring vital signs not so commonly covered by suit VI such as neural functions.

Powers:

Overload
Stasis
Tech Armor
Warp
Harpoon Rounds

	Maria grinned internally - she’d finally managed to draw the Inquisitor’s ire it seemed. Certainly took her long enough, her little hypothesis about this Inquisitor being new to the game seemed increasingly likely. She would play nice for now, but the towering bimbo would find she was not so easily deterred, it would simply take a little more subtlety. Setting herself on fire earlier had not been the brightest idea, she had to admit - but it had been fun, so it was a net win as far as she was concerned. 

	The mention of a Sororitas themed reception did serve to temper her scheming somewhat. She didn’t fear death, at least not death itself. But she had no desire to slowly be picked apart with hot tools as an angry Sister sang aggressive scripture at her. Though, if she was to be executed, she could at least taunt them without too many extra repercussions. 

	As they broke the barrier of the planet’s atmosphere, Maria quirked an eyebrow at its pristine grandeur. Immediately her eyes darted around, picking out any parts that looked like they might host a gang or slum, and she was not disappointed. It didn’t matter how much gold filigree the bureaucrats added to their pretty towers, there would still be those unlucky enough not to be born with a golden spoon in their mouths. 

	Unlike some members of their team, all of her personal belongings fit on her person. A couple spare changes of clothes, a few books, her dataslate - currently loaded down with several books downloaded off the ship’s computer, her dog tags, and a few other miscellaneous odds and ends. 

	It struck her suddenly that this was the first time since she left home all those years ago that she was setting foot on a planet where the first order of business wasn’t digging fortifications for squad heavy bolters. It was an odd sensation. 

	As the shuttle touched down upon the surface, Maria took a moment to breathe in air untainted by the ionization of las fire or the acrid stench of high explosive. There was still the odor of civilization, but still - fresh, unrecycled air. 

	Making her way into the building ahead, she walked slowly through its vacant hallways, eventually turning into an empty room in the far corner where she dumped the small satchel that held all of her worldly possessions on a small table in the corner and wheeled around, marching for the central room of the building.

	Much like the Krieger, she still had her armor and weapons on her. Her coat was not fully buttoned however, and the well worn carapace armor underneath gleamed through, alongside the meaty bulk of the bolt pistol and the bandoliers of ammunition she wore on her person for it. It gave her quite the swashbuckling look, if she had to say. Acknowledging the man with a small nod, she stood in the corner, snapping off a salute to the Inquisitor.

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