Hello. Welcome to my experiment. I've never done an anime-style RP before, but the inspiration struck me and here we are. The roleplay will be about a group of people who inadvertently travel into another world together and how their actions and lives in that other world impact their day-to-day existences in their home town on Earth. As such, this roleplay will be featuring Slice of Life elements as well as the more traditional Adventure, Exploration, Magic, and Action highlights of a Fantasy game.
My background in anime is as a casual consumer and regular convention attendee. My background in Fantasy comes from classical and gothic literature and, frankly, I have a penchant for gritty, dark, and realism as qualifiers; as such, this experiment in 'anime' will be a labor of growing pains and broaching the realm of the uncomfortable and unfamiliar. What this means is that you will encounter strange creatures, unfamiliar situations, the occasional puzzle or riddle, and circumstances that will have lasting consequences for the world(s) your characters inhabit.
The game will feature a Prologue Segment; this segment will focus on the characters as teenagers when they first discover this ability to travel to the 'other world', the initial introduction of the 'other world', and essentially be an organic means of introducing elements that would otherwise have just been prompts on a character sheet so that these things can develop on screen. All of this is important to me as a DM because I want the roleplay to focus on the bonds of the characters and their supporting cast, and I feel that if people are willing to put in the legwork for a prologue segment like this that it will strengthen the characterization and themes moving forward. The prologue segment will conclude with the characters returning home and segue into a Time Skip to when the roleplay will begin properly. Over the Time Skip, the events of the prologue will become memory, dream, myth, imagination; the roleplay proper will begin with an event bringing the player characters, now adults whose bond over their shared imaginary adventure has kept them in touch with each other, back together with a reawakening of the Dream...
Below will be a brief interest-blurb of the two key locations of the roleplay. Art by Sin Jong Hun
The Small Village of New Hope
"New Hope. Nestled between two mountains, at the junction of two rivers, where the beautiful Lake Chartreuse basks in the golden rays of the sun... At least, that's what this brochure says. Truth is, this place is about as 'quaint' and 'small-town' as you could ever expect. The history of this place is long- but quiet and boring despite how well documented it is. Family lines can be traced back to the founding families of New Hope, and a stubborn sort of pride persists in its people. Myself included, to be honest. Everyone tries to leave at one point or another, and a few manage to stay away... But most come back, seeking the quiet of this place. As the brochure says; 'Welcome to New Hope, where all your dreams come true'." -"Hickory" Earhart, local Librarian.
New Hope is the Player Characters' home town and the setting of our roleplay on Earth. This small village houses a population of three hundred. This is always in a gentle state of flux as people come and go, and travelers pass through, but it's a quirk of the town's history that the population has more or less always stayed the same. The landmarks of the area are the Mountains Bilica and Hoar [The former being the lesser of the two mounts], the Lake Chartreuse, the adjoining rivers [Bilica: River Fontaine, Hoar: Swallow River; "The Swallow"], and the nearby forest called "Weeping Sam" after a local myth. The mountains and the river coming down Mount Bilica are named after three of the Founding Families of New Hope.
The village contains a schoolhouse, a grocer, two restaurants, a gathering hall for communal vote, a local shrine to the old gods of the Founding Families up on Mount Bilica, a small library, and a small communal dock on Lake Chartreuse. Everyone in town has stories of hidden places or forgotten hideouts or mysterious buildings up on the mountains or in the Weeping Sam, but the townsfolk are generally settled in to their routines of farming and toil and many of these adventures of the elders have become local myth or forgotten entirely.
Prompted by Aegidius Aurelius, using an AI Writing Generator, edited heavily by me. "I think, now, you’re old enough to know.
Weeping Sam was once called the Shaded Grove in simpler times. Everybody knew to avoid the Grove because the town, only recently pioneered, did not have enough manpower to tame the meadows yet. The handful of children our settlers had knew better than to go beyond the fences, to explore on their own. However, Sam was curious — curious of what lies beyond the sunlit grass and painted posts that protected them. The imagination of the young one ran wild!
Sam told tall tales of whispers in the wind and promises of precious trinkets in the shadows of the trees. During the Foundation Festival, Sam had snuck away from the bustle and merriment abound in the village green. Sam’s sister Lily had been adamant that rules were meant to be followed, but as you surely know, all grand tales are not told within safety. With the troublemaker sneaking off, Lily dared not imagine how angry their parents would be if Sam were to get hurt.
The two went off together into the brush and shade — one to find adventure, the other praying nobody would know. Both of them, however, were unprepared for the untamed wild. The forest invited them in but would quietly obscure the path from where they came. Sam found a myriad of neat trinkets, but Lily grew worried as the evening sun nestled between Bilica and Hoar. Coming upon a clearing, Sam saw an emerald-green tree with a luster to match. The tree glowed with a surreal shine. Ethereal enticement drew the both of them further with even Lily intrigued by the discovery. The verdant facet further with even Lily intrigued by the discovery. The verdant facet pulled them closer and closer until Sam reached out to touch it.
A flash!
The child was consumed by a light within an instant. Lily, baffled and reeling, hit the ground and realized she could no longer see. She cried out for Sam, but all she could hear was a distant weeping. Blinded by their hubris, the girl slowly crawled along the ground in terror towards the sobbing of Sam. After following the sound for hours, in the midst of the night, she breached the brushline back into the meadow beyond. Her vision returned within minutes, but Sam was nowhere to be found. The young girl described this story to her family and the town mounted a rescue effort, but nothing came from their endless search.
After months of trying and winter rolling in, the toughest decision was made to drop the search for Sam. But even now, the crying of a distant child can be heard by those who put their ear to the ground." -As told by "Hickory" Earhart, Librarian of New Hope, during the Summer Fest.
Art by Asur Misoa
The Dreamlands - Yo'Bikur
"Yo'Bikur is the home of the Bikura. It is not unusual for strange beings to appear in the deep wilds of our home, drawn in by Yo'Bikur's silent beckoning. Our history is colored by such visits! The Great Songs of the Elder Voices tell of many a Hero- and many a conqueror- to visit our lands. The Power of Yo'Bikur is an allure, drawing those who visit her back again and again for better or worse. Such is the way of things. Such they shall always be." -The Princess Rulania, The Song of the Bikura volume 1
Yo'Bikur, The Dreamlands, will be the 'other world' that our roleplay takes part in. Information will be sparse for now, and be revealed as the roleplay takes places. It will be a Medieval themed fantasy land featuring magic, beasts, adventures, mysteries, myths, and danger. In their initial trip to this land as teenagers, the characters will begin awakening to the mystical properties of the Dreamlands organically and in this way the character sheets will grow and become 'complete' after the Prologue. Once the Time Skip occurs and the prologue is complete, travel between The Dreamlands and Earth will be generally sandbox for the Player Characters with the exception of key story beats requiring the full cast in one location or the other. Will your characters try to achieve a balance, fear the Dream and the strange powers they gain there, or lose themselves in this other world?
Character Information and Rules
-Follow Guild Guidelines.
-I'm here for a good time, not anything else. Posting is required, but communication is king; I will hold no particular timeline so long as people are having a good time. Dedication and commitment trump posting speed.
-I will arbitrate conflicts between characters if they arise. Conflicts between players shouldn't arise if we're all communicating properly, so try to keep it civil or I'll have to make some very easy decisions.
-I hold to an oldschool roleplaying mentality. 'Collaborations' aren't really necessary here, let's all just roleplay and let things happen in the open. If you need NPCs in your scenes, feel free to handle that among yourselves; as notable ones are created or pop up, I'll keep tabs on them and document things as necessary on my end. I don't need to be hands-on and GM every little detail, this is partially a slice of life and sandbox game while in New Hope; if you want to write a scene with a tourist or traveler coming into town, feel free to do so- I encourage creativity and characterization! Feel free to request my attention to storytell an NPC or guide a scene, of course, but I am trying to give people a little freedom to avoid being tied down waiting on me to post.
-Contrary to the above, once we get the ball rolling and the characters begin to get involved with the world of Yo'Bikur, I will generally need to hands-on storytell those scenes until we reach a certain point as a community where the rules and cultures of the world are understood by all. Once we reach that point, the reins will be relaxed. I will be focusing on handling story hooks, plot relevant scenes, and otherwise impactful and dramatic moments as a storyteller.
Character Requirements
For the Prologue, characters must be aged 13-18. This is to work within the intended confines of a planned Time Skip, which will be approximately 10 years. Due to the small town nature of the roleplay, this means that all of your characters will know each other; I encourage you all to communicate and establish relationships together, as well as with the noteworthy NPCs in the town.
Note on Backstory; brevity is acceptable here, as in a meta sense I am looking for halfway complete characters here. We are taking a snapshot of a character in their teenage years and playing out a formative, dramatic, series of events that will alter their futures and lives on Earth irrevocably. As such, I do not need intense sheets or exceptional details; I am more interested in organic characters with clear arcs of growth and the roots of characterization at this stage. Once we end the Prologue, that is when the sheets will be updated and improved to accommodate.
Note on Aesthetics: Do whatever you want, I don't care. Use any formatting or tricks that you want to pretty it up, or keep it simple- my only request is please use Hiders. I can't explain it, but they soothe my aching grey matter.
Name
Age
Gender|Sex|Identity
Personality Description
Physical Description
Backstory
Notable Connection This can be to an NPC or another player, but your character needs to have a strong bond to someone; feel free to create your own entity here and describe their role in New Hope.
Respond to these prompts in character You're in class and the Fire Alarm goes off. Everyone begins to panic.
You've made plans to go to the festival and are running late, but may make it in time to see the fireworks with your friends. On your way, you see a stranger with a flat tire on the side of the road.
You fall asleep in class and begin to dream; you're atop a ruined tower and a massive dragon circles overhead. You reach for...
The world is so boring; you wish you had a super power. What do you wish for?
You are suddenly reminded that tomorrow is the Midterm Exam.
Enough folks have showed interest for me to put more brain power onto the concept, I’ll begin moving forward and prepping an OOC and a character sheet. As a heads up the initial character sheet will be quite light, as a bulk of the important information will come during the prologue and need to be prepared for the time skip afterwards.
Hello. Welcome to my experiment. I've never done an anime-style RP before, but the inspiration struck me and here we are. The roleplay will be about a group of people who inadvertently travel into another world together and how their actions and lives in that other world impact their day-to-day existences in their home town on Earth. As such, this roleplay will be featuring Slice of Life elements as well as the more traditional Adventure, Exploration, Magic, and Action highlights of a Fantasy game.
My background in anime is as a casual consumer and regular convention attendee. My background in Fantasy comes from classical and gothic literature and, frankly, I have a penchant for gritty, dark, and realism as qualifiers; as such, this experiment in 'anime' will be a labor of growing pains and broaching the realm of the uncomfortable and unfamiliar. What this means is that you will encounter strange creatures, unfamiliar situations, the occasional puzzle or riddle, and circumstances that will have lasting consequences for the world(s) your characters inhabit.
The game will feature a Prologue Segment; this segment will focus on the characters as teenagers when they first discover this ability to travel to the 'other world', the initial introduction of the 'other world', and essentially be an organic means of introducing elements that would otherwise have just been prompts on a character sheet so that these things can develop on screen. All of this is important to me as a DM because I want the roleplay to focus on the bonds of the characters and their supporting cast, and I feel that if people are willing to put in the legwork for a prologue segment like this that it will strengthen the characterization and themes moving forward. The prologue segment will conclude with the characters returning home and segue into a Time Skip to when the roleplay will begin properly. Over the Time Skip, the events of the prologue will become memory, dream, myth, imagination; the roleplay proper will begin with an event bringing the player characters, now adults whose bond over their shared imaginary adventure has kept them in touch with each other, back together with a reawakening of the Dream...
Below will be a brief interest-blurb of the two key locations of the roleplay. Art by Sin Jong Hun
The Small Village of New Hope
"New Hope. Nestled between two mountains, at the junction of two rivers, where the beautiful Lake Chartreuse basks in the golden rays of the sun... At least, that's what this brochure says. Truth is, this place is about as 'quaint' and 'small-town' as you could ever expect. The history of this place is long- but quiet and boring despite how well documented it is. Family lines can be traced back to the founding families of New Hope, and a stubborn sort of pride persists in its people. Myself included, to be honest. Everyone tries to leave at one point or another, and a few manage to stay away... But most come back, seeking the quiet of this place. As the brochure says; 'Welcome to New Hope, where all your dreams come true'." -"Hickory" Earhart, local Librarian.
New Hope is the Player Characters' home town and the setting of our roleplay on Earth. This small village houses a population of three hundred. This is always in a gentle state of flux as people come and go, and travelers pass through, but it's a quirk of the town's history that the population has more or less always stayed the same. The landmarks of the area are the Mountains Bilica and Hoar [The former being the lesser of the two mounts], the Lake Chartreuse, the adjoining rivers [Bilica: River Fontaine, Hoar: Swallow River; "The Swallow"], and the nearby forest called "Weeping Sam" after a local myth. The mountains and the river coming down Mount Bilica are named after three of the Founding Families of New Hope.
The village contains a schoolhouse, a grocer, two restaurants, a gathering hall for communal vote, a local shrine to the old gods of the Founding Families up on Mount Bilica, a small library, and a small communal dock on Lake Chartreuse. Everyone in town has stories of hidden places or forgotten hideouts or mysterious buildings up on the mountains or in the Weeping Sam, but the townsfolk are generally settled in to their routines of farming and toil and many of these adventures of the elders have become local myth or forgotten entirely. Art by Asur Misoa
The Dreamlands - Yo'Bikur
"Yo'Bikur is the home of the Bikura. It is not unusual for strange beings to appear in the deep wilds of our home, drawn in by Yo'Bikur's silent beckoning. Our history is colored by such visits! The Great Songs of the Elder Voices tell of many a Hero- and many a conqueror- to visit our lands. The Power of Yo'Bikur is an allure, drawing those who visit her back again and again for better or worse. Such is the way of things. Such they shall always be." -The Princess Rulania, The Song of the Bikura volume 1
Yo'Bikur, The Dreamlands, will be the 'other world' that our roleplay takes part in. Information will be sparse for now, and be revealed as the roleplay takes places. It will be a Medieval themed fantasy land featuring magic, beasts, adventures, mysteries, myths, and danger. In their initial trip to this land as teenagers, the characters will begin awakening to the mystical properties of the Dreamlands organically and in this way the character sheets will grow and become 'complete' after the Prologue. Once the Time Skip occurs and the prologue is complete, travel between The Dreamlands and Earth will be generally sandbox for the Player Characters with the exception of key story beats requiring the full cast in one location or the other. Will your characters try to achieve a balance, fear the Dream and the strange powers they gain there, or lose themselves in this other world?
In the interest of ‘Relevant to my setting musings’ I actually recently got in a massive pile of kickstarted settings and rule books. Has anyone played Forgotten Lands by Free League? It pretty much hit the nail on the head for all the vibes I was trying to capture with Aesithas and I’m being transparent in my viewing of other systems as I run this game. I was just curious if anyone had any personal experience with the Mechanics of it, as the setting itself is very alluring to me.
Full Name - Laine Severn (formerly, Commander Laine Severn) Designation - Hyperion Species - Human Age - 55 (b. 2128) Origin - Earthborn Classification - Soldier Unique Specialization - Shock Trooper -
P S Y C H E
Revenant of War // Discipline, Determination, Tenacity "The war isn't over yet. Get back on your feet, soldier."
Hyperion is defined by an incredible stamina and willpower. The former is incredible in that it spites his advancing age, whereas the latter is honed by decades of discipline and training. His tenacity and ability to push on through hardship has formed him into the anchor of many a squad, as well as the powerful pillar of strength for those who earn his trust. These positive traits are shadowed by their darker halves, however...
His enduring and tenacious spirit make him rigid and unyielding.
His tirelessness and physical discipline make him unsympathetic to the weakness of others.
His trust, once earned, is unshakable; but the shadows of war and loss make it a hard-earned boon.
Searching for Soul // Yearning, Guilt, Rage ”It felt good. Nothing can ever bring him back, I know that now, but Torfan… Torfan felt good. I don’t like that. I don’t know what it means for me.”
Hyperion is wrestling with an emptiness. Volatile emotions whirl within at the thoughts of Torfan, his son, and the state of the Galaxy at large. Dreams of the stars turned to the nightmares of war; the hope of a family burned into the ashes of vengeance; duty to an ideal faded into the nothingness of the non-believer.
He’s searching for something. Something to believe in.
E Q U I P M E N T
Jormangund Torrent Assault Rifle "Proud product of humanity, adapting the best of alien tech with our own; you can hold this baby's trigger down for practically the entire firefight without worrying about overheating. Takes spray and pray to a whole new level."
Haliat Armory Stilleto "I will never disparage the quality of Turian ordnance. Their equipment is sturdy, functional, and packs a punch. A slaver nearly put a hole in my head with one of these, and once I recovered from the headache I knew I had to get one myself."
Hane-Kedar Storm Shotgun "It's Ol' Reliable in classic shotgun form. It can handle any weather condition, foul temper, bad attitude, and foolhardy Tango Operative that you can conceive. Cheap to replace, too- but I'll be honest; the shotgun will probably outlast me."
Systems Alliance Mk.14 Grenade(s) - High Explosive Module "Versatile and efficient. I prefer the High Explosive modification over others, I find that the higher yield leads to more utility as a breaching charge. Battlefield manipulation has become the realm of the Biotics, but I find that good, old fashioned, explosive threats can still get Op-For out of cover and into the killing field."
Rosenkov Materials Heavy Titan Armor "Rosenkov is an old name, and I put stock in old names. They take pride in their work and it shows. Every dent in this armor is a reminder that it's doing its job."
R E C O R D
2149 - Chasing A Dream: Joining the Systems Alliance Laine Severn, 21, joins the Systems Alliance. Dreams of the stars carry him forth.
2157 - First Contact War: Shanxi A Dream becomes a Nightmare; Severn earns his stripes.
2164 - ICT Program Graduation: Achieving N7 The Galaxy is large, crowded, and potentially hostile. The Alliance prepares Severn to face it.
2176 - The Skyllian Blitz + The Anhur Rebellions: The Wings of Vengeance Colonies torn asunder by conflict. On one, a war won; on the other, a son lost.
2178 - Massacre at Torfan: Prelude to the Fall Severn's vengeance is wrought. With his purpose fulfilled, the Galaxy feels empty.
2179-Present Day - The Lone Gun: Rock Bottom No longer driven by Duty or Purpose, Severn retires from the Alliance. The veteran soldier strikes out into the galaxy as a lone gun for hire, searching for a reason to live. In a grand sense of irony, he takes the name Hyperion.
C O N N E C T I O N S
Suzette Norfleet // "The Witch." ”As brilliant a woman as they come. The citadel was seemingly a great place for a high grade psychologist to end up. Last I heard, she works for someone called ‘The Consort’. I don’t really understand it to be honest, but she seems fulfilled. We haven’t talked much since the divorce, but when work takes me to the Citadel she usually lends me a few words of advice. It always comes with a catch, though- that woman never changes... We're not as close as we used to be, but she was his mother and that still means something to me.”
Fil’Zorul Nar Zako // "Phil." "Phil's a troublemaker, but weren't we all when we were young? Phil has a knack for getting into stupidly dangerous situations trying to make some money- but so far his track record shows him to be a squirrely bastard who's probably even smarter than I already think he is. The first time I met Phil, he was jury rigging combat mechs for a gang on Omega. I was hired to wipe that gang out, and he seemed enthusiastic about changing his career paths. Who knew that buying a lonely kid a few drinks would get a small army of mechs to switch sides and make that job one of the easiest paychecks of my career? I don't really reach out to Phil so much- but damned if he doesn't find a way to keep in contact with me. Odd jobs, rescue requests, and the occasional gem of scrap tech... I certainly find him plenty useful."
Sur'Kesh Ol'Varo Hurloln Derhant Silik Vilani // "Queenie." "I've never actually met Queenie in person. Turns out she's someone in government in the Salarian Union or something, but to my understanding most of their women are. Sounds like a headache of familial ties to me. I call her Queenie and it seems to amuse her as much as me, so I figure she likes me well enough- but I'm always cautious with her. She's had me hunt down loose threads of her plots that displease her before, and I know that someday it might be my turn to end up on the executioner's block... But until then, she has high grade contacts, deep pockets, and values discretion. Hoorah."
Physical Details ◢
Rising to a height of five feet ten inches tall, Hyperion presents a well built figure. Not a slab of imposing meat or brutish demeanor of the musclehead- but the lean and disciplined frame of career hardship. Muscles are taut and whiplike, movements fluid and powerful, and his physical presence fills the air around him and makes him seem larger than he truly is.
His body is marred by marks both fresh and faded. A myriad of combat wounds and surgery marks riddle his form, but most of his serious injuries over the years weren't able to be concealed by modern medical technology. Notably, a severe scar crosses over his face- an injury from a Batarian's knife- which has never faded fully over the years. His left forearm also bears the severe scarring of a Varren's mauling, this particular wound seeming to agitate him still despite the months of recovery.
His body moves with the languid nature and cool comfort of one to whom armor is a second skin. Even while donning the heavy armor he is known for he makes movement and athleticism seem natural and easy. When operating without the constraints of gravity, he can even almost seem graceful thanks to his Zero-G training and operational experience.
Grey hair accents the grizzled features of the aging man. His face is often rough from stubble, and if given enough time without a shave his beard would grow in thick and full- but by the time it would reach that point he has often brought it back down to rough stubble with the edge of a knife. His eyes, a crystalline blue, can appear quite stunning when they catch light- but are otherwise an extension of the emptiness that grips the man's emotional state. His expressions are subdued and gripped by severity, with rare moments of levity or brightness. His skin is darkened by years of sunlight, foreign and familiar, into a warm tan and lines or wrinkles of a lifetime of labor are beginning to furrow his face.
Personal History ◢
RUINS ON MARS REVEAL ADVANCED TECHNOLOGICAL INNOVATIONS
The headline was sweeping across every datasphere in comprehension. A young man's eyes were glued to the screen as information filled his mind. The world was shaking to its foundations; the colonies on Mars were euphoric and triumphant, the nations of old Earth were in uproar and chasing every thread imaginable. World leaders were calling for unity and co-operation. Something had changed. Something drastic. Something that filled the young man with dreams of the future. His hands trembled as he rapidly checked through different sites and sources- then the screen of his comm shimmered into that of receiving a call.
"Oh my god, Suze." He said with haste upon answering the call. "Are you seeing this- Can you believe this- Alien tech-"
"Yeah, I'm seeing it." She laughed through the call. "Isn't it amazing?"
"I want to be a part of it." His voice trembled even as he said it, the words reaching his own ears at the same time they reached Suzette's. "Whatever it is, I want to be a part of it. This is the future- our future- out there."
The fate of Humanity changed in the year 2148. The discovery of the Prothean ruins on Mars and the unearthing of the mass-effect drives therein irrevocably catapulted the fledgeling species into the, unbeknownst to them, modern era. The following year, eighteen of Earth's largest nations signed the Systems Alliance Charter. The same year, a young Laine Severn forwent his intentions of pursuing an education in physical therapy and transferred to the newly established Systems Alliance Naval Academy. Shortly thereafter he married his highschool sweetheart, Suzette Norfolk. Their marriage was a happy thing, and while they were both in attendance of universities on Earth they spent as much time together as they could manage.
Severn graduated and was given the rank of 2nd Lieutenant. Suzette achieved her doctorate and graduated Magna Cum Laude from Johns Hopkins University. They discovered her pregnancy shortly before Severn's first tour of the stars began. Twelve months later, the now Staff-Lieutenant (B7) Severn returned home to a young, healthy, baby boy.
Hope was kindled for the future.
Sweat clung to his face. No matter how much it stung his eyes, raising his helmet to wipe the insufferable perspiration was out of the question. Silence hummed deafeningly in his ears. His eyes were straining. He took a steadying breath and relaxed. The stale stench of his own breath filled his nostrils, filtering with the fresh oxygen of the atmosphere of the planet.
"Commander, movement." The voice crackled in his ear as a static inflected whisper.
"Pos?" his own parched lips barely moved- radio chatter was dangerous.
"Sector seven. Scavenge team returning."
"Cover them."
He finally moved. The stiffness of his limbs protested, but his armor silently maneuvered- despite the grime, lieutenant Severn kept his gear in high maintenance. The concealing blind he'd been positioned in shifted with him and soon he emerged, rifle braced to his shoulder, onto the outcrop he'd commandeered as a lookout. The city was in ruins. Smoke filled the air. Rubble still shifted uncertainly, prefab ferrocrete disintegrating and destabilizing adjacent structures even now- hours after the last bombardment. He cast his gaze skyward for a moment and swore he could see the bastards up there, gazing down at him, smug in their feelings of superiority...
He hissed under his breath and tore his gaze from that haze filled, blood-red, sky. Sectors two through five were still burning. Nobody knew when the next orbital strike would fall. Nobody knew what the criteria for the strikes were; sometimes they fell on empty city blocks, sometimes it was as if the Turians knew exactly where to place the strikes to kill just a single squad of men. The only solace was that Op-For seemed to be avoiding the refugee centers. Seems even aliens had a conscience and rationale.
That thought didn't diminish the rage and hatred burning in his heart.
Staff-Commander Severn, field promoted after an orbital strike by the Turian sieging forces killed his XO, was a prisoner of war on Shanxi. The dreams of a life among the stars became nightmares of war. The sight of city blocks evaporating into rubble from debris strikes seared into his mind. His hands were bloodied from carrying a wounded companion- bloodied from putting pressure on a wound- bloodied from killing a Turian with his knife- bloodied and clinging to a rifle as he screamed into the night air, his torrential gunfire ripping into the third story of a ruin to suppress a sniper team... Hoping that his bullets would find homes in Turian skulls rather than ferrocrete walls.
He would never forget the hunger. The way he watched an old woman close her eyes to rest- only to never open them again, starvation claiming her at last. He would never forget the sight of General Williams issuing the surrender. He would never forget the feeling of being powerless. He would never forget the pride he felt when the Second Fleet turned the heavens into fireworks and the Turians realized that this war wasn't over yet.
He would never forget the disappointment of being denied revenge.
Peace was brokered. Diplomacy...prevailed. A council revealed; a grand stage presented itself. Humanity accepted the offered olive branch, and Commander Severn returned home.
He takes after Suze, Severn thought to himself. He rubbed his hands together and focused back on the task at hand. With deft movements he slid the spatula across the grill surface, the metal on metal- Knife impacting armor- clang giving way to the sizzle of-Flesh, boiling after the impact of atmospheric debris. Bone revealed in an instant- burger meat as it charred on the grill. He flipped a patty, lifting his eyes to watch as the boy-ran for his life, the shadow of a building falling over his face the moment before realization hit his eyes- folded paper in a delicate manner.
"Whatcha making?" He called out to the boy. He sniffed once, the smell of-Blood, charred flesh, gunsmoke- well-done beef wafting up to him. One more flip and the meat was deposited onto a plate, ready to be doctored up and served.
"A crane today. Mama says that origami helps build focus and strengthens your attention span. She says she wished you would do it, too, you know." God above, he's so bright for a thirteen year old. Severn mused.
"Your mother says a lot of things. Most of them are right." He said in a gruff voice. "...Almost all of them, really, but don't tell her I said that."
His son's laughter was like ambrosia. It soothed his heart more than anything else in this world ever could. He opened his mouth to speak, but tensed up. Imperceptibly- but Suzette would notice. She always did. The door behind him slid open, and his hand tightened on the spatula he gripped.
The year Severn spent at home was difficult. He got to see his child's thirteenth birthday. Got to meet some of his friends for the first time. Was able to attend one of Suzette's conferences on the subject of Human and Xenoneurological similarities. He had to restrain himself from punching one of her colleagues who wouldn't stop commenting on how 'astounding' the aliens' differences were...
He felt if they were at Shanxi, they wouldn't find their differences so romantic.
"...Laine, there's a man here to see you. From the Alliance." Suzette said in a quiet, delicate, voice.
The way the tension eased out of his body when she said those last words wasn't lost on her. He knew she'd notice. The way she watched him was downright unnerving; their bedroom had been cold since Shanxi. Their dinner tables tense. Their home troubled. But through it all was the warmth and love of the boy, holding them together. Strong, for his sake. Severn nodded and set the plate aside, swiftly closing and turning off the grill.
Cooking had been a sort of therapy for Severn. He'd taken to mastering the grill in his newly discovered free time. His mornings still started early with rigorous PT, his evenings were still spent in the discipline of exercise and study, but his days were devoid of the comradery he'd become used to on a ship, or the intimate bond of his fellow marines on a planet's surface, or the irrevocable bond of the prisoners of Shanxi...
So he spent them with his son, with the grill, and with the oven. For a few months, he was content and able to forget Shanxi. That relaxation lasted only a short while, as whenever he found himself beginning to think about the sensation of peace the fires of war filled his mind again. Opportunity came knocking as tensions in his household rose.
He blinked, and found himself seated across from a uniformed man- bearing no insignia or rank.
"Commander, how has your vacation been?"
"Restless, sir." He said evenly.
"I understand that. The Alliance has an opportunity for you. Your record, and the testimony of those you served with on Shanxi, has made you a candidate."
"A candidate?"
"For the Interplanetary Combatives Training program. You're up for special forces, son."
Severn breathed in quietly. Held the breath. Let it out. Shanxi flickered in his eyes.
"Why me?" He asked at last.
"Commander, we used to be big fish in what we thought was a galaxy sized pond. Turns out the pond was a thimble and now we're sure of nothing. Are you willing to fight for your species, son? Like you did on Shanxi? When your back was on the wall, you performed. That's what we're looking for. The training will be hard. There's no shame in turning down the offer."
Severn rose to his feet and threw a formal salute.
"Hoorah, sir. When do I ship out?"
Severn spent five years accomplishing the rigorous and brutal cycles of the ICT program. He was rarely home. His son grew into a man in the time he was away. His wife's accolades carried her into the stars. Severn achieved the rank of N7 the same year his son joined a colonial incentive scholarship with the Johns Hopkins university geological science program. He was following in his mother's footsteps, and Severn couldn't have been prouder.
Elysium was a paradise, after all.
Twelve years of special forces operations within Council Space and the Terminus Systems brought accolade and laudation upon Commander Severn (N7) and his family name. His son had become a respected geological scientist, Suzette had established herself as one of the pioneers of Human-Xeno relations on the field of brain study, and he was beginning to earn the reputation of a Hero of Humanity in the quiet circles who knew of his deeds.
A problem arose in the Anhur system. Commander Severn and his task force were to assist the Human interests on the colony discretely; the Council was stonewalling Human requests for aid, and the Systems Alliance brass didn't want to risk destabilizing the delicate house of cards the Alliance Politicians were building on the Citadel...
Which meant it was a one way trip.
Severn tightened his grip on the Batarian's wrist and twisted his arm even more severely, his other hand braced on the prisoner's shoulder to secure the joint lock.
"I'm only going to ask you nicely one more time, Batarian. Where are the forces going to deploy at Bast?"
"Fuck off!" the Batarian wheezed through clenched teeth. "If you were going to kill me, you would have by now- I'm not telling you anything!"
Severn grunted with the effort and wrenched the Batarian's arm further, a sickening snap filling the air as he shattered the prisoner's elbow. With a derisive kick, he knocked the legs of the chair from under the screaming Batarian and walked from the room. He was shaking his head and staring at his hands quietly as the door sealed behind him.
"Commander." A woman saluted by the door. "Any luck?"
"No. He's as stubborn as they all are." Severn growled in his raspy voice. "Any luck with the communications?"
"Aye, sir. We managed to receive a critical transmission across the emergency channel. Nothing for us, but..." Her hesitation brought Severn's eyes up from his hands and onto her own. His eyes were dark in the shadows of the bunker they operated out of, and tainted by the cruelty he felt justified in enacting just moments before.
"But?" he queried sternly. The woman waivered, then spoke.
"It's Elysium, sir. The Batarians are attacking it. It was a sudden assault, co-ordinated by a pirate warlord. They're sieging it. Last word out of the colony was that a debris strike was launched indiscriminately before raiding parties descended. It sounds bloody, sir."
Severn fell silent at those words. After a few moments he raised his hand.
"Lieutenant, your sidearm."
"Sir, yes sir." She responded curtly, placing her pistol into his hand. She turned her back smartly as Severn entered the sealed room once more.
She pretended she didn't hear the gunshot.
The Anhur Rebellions were a blur of blood and smoke to Commander Severn. His unit operated with Eclipse Mercenaries as well as local militia, providing fire support and tactical supervision when able- and operating as a shadow unit of critical strike capability otherwise. The guerilla warfare of the local militia meshed well with the N7 task force's discretionary requirements, and the Eclipse mercenaries offered convenient excuses for direct confrontation when needed. All things considered, it was a bloody war- but one that abolitionists would probably remember as a victory for sapient being rights.
Commander Severn would remember it as yet another circle of Hell he was passing through. When his unit was exfiltrated, the first news of home he received, purely due to a thoughtless organizational error of a rookie yeoman, was a declaration of intent to divorce. The second was that his son's funeral had already been held, and he was permitted to visit the honorary grave site at his leisure. The third was a briefing from Alliance brass about a retaliatory strike against the Batarians at Torfan.
The Blitz had tipped the scales in favor of the Alliance; they could strike back now without fear of repercussion from the Citadel Council.
The sky was on fire. Debris of an Alliance ship drifted overhead, flames licking across its hull as it split apart in the upper atmosphere and split into dozens of superheated fragments.
Taking heavy losses- What the hell is going on down there- the radio crackled, and the sky split asunder as a series of Alliance warships unloaded a barrage that resulted in a cataclysmic series of explosions across the sky. The shockwaves rippled outward as the fleet continued its systematic eradication of the Batarian naval forces...
Severn could almost feel the explosions in his skull.
Shepard, what in God's name is going on- The Batarians are surren-
Major Kyle's voice was trying to assert itself over the communications channels, but it was to no avail. The depths of the Batarian strongholds in the lunar surface were interfering with the communications to the command ship- but a signal on the moon's surface rang through strong and clear.
This is for the Blitz. They took slaves and butchered our families even as they cowered in their homes. Show no mercy, accept no surrender. They've earned this. It's their turn to cry for help.
Her voice was that of an Archangel. Her words were orders unto themselves; her wrath was contagious; her fury was Severn's own, boiling up from within and gripping the entire Galaxy in its destructive jaws.
He descended into the labyrinthine fortress. The final level of Hell. He dove in head first, spearheading a charge into its darkness and depths with a scream of righteous fury. He held down the trigger of his rifle until the heat sink screamed and the gun broke apart in his hands. He slashed with his knife and clubbed with his pistol beyond the point of exhaustion and numbness. He screamed until his throat was raw and blood bubbled from his lips. He cried until he couldn't anymore. He killed until there wasn't anyone left to kill.
When he came to, it was to Major Kyle's voice in his ear;
May God have mercy on us all.
Severn pushed himself off the ground, coated in the gore of his vengeance, and looked around slowly at the daze and fervor of his surviving allies. They'd just made Shanxi look like child's play. That realization struck him with such force it was like taking the first breath of fresh air in decades.
Commander Laine Severn (N7) retired after the battle of Torfan. He finally visited his son's grave and found he had no more tears to shed. The hollowness of guilt gripped his heart. His faith in Humanity was shaken. He disappeared into the Galaxy at large.
Combat Analysis ◢
"Form up on me; Op-For consists of five tangos, well equipped and ready for us. They're itching to get out of this in one piece just like we are. Call your shots and keep friendlies in periphery. Tight formation; anchor on me; sweep and clear. On my mark... Go."
Hyperion has the training of an elite N7 Commando, with specialized training in Shock and Awe tactics and leadership experience in squad based operational scenarios. In plain language, he's a tough sonuvabitch with command experience who likes to end fights quickly. He is well versed in the handling of all modern equipment of war, with a foundation of terrestrial vehicle operation and shuttlecraft piloting- though these are not his area of expertise. The most stunning aspect of Hyperion's combat analysis is the mastery of his armor systems and his role as the 'anchor' of a squad's maneuvers...
His own lethality is impressive; his ability to take a hit and get back up is incredible; his capacity to enable the success of others in his unit, however, is what truly sets him apart.
"I don't want to see anyone playing hero. Watch my back and I'll watch yours; if we can't agree to that, then nothing else matters."
Reason for Vacating Previous Situation ◢
"I was hitting the bottom of my cred line. You can't really 'disappear' on Illium, but I'm a nobody there unless someone needs to hire a gun. The only issue is that damn near everything costs double on that planet. I was scraping together the last of the creds to punch my ticket on a shuttle off-world and coming up short when I got a ping from Queenie. She always seems to find me when I need money the most, so I took the call...
Exo-Geni. Big name, big work. I didn't have anything better to do and funds were low. I told Queenie that she'd have to forward me the fare for transport; she told me I'd have to pay her back with interest. Fair enough, Queenie. Fair enough."
Full Name - Laine Severn (formerly, Commander Laine Severn) Designation - Hyperion Species - Human Age - 55 (b. 2128) Origin - Earthborn Classification - Soldier Unique Specialization - Shock Trooper -
P S Y C H E
Revenant of War // Discipline, Determination, Tenacity "The war isn't over yet. Get back on your feet, soldier."
Hyperion is defined by an incredible stamina and willpower. The former is incredible in that it spites his advancing age, whereas the latter is honed by decades of discipline and training. His tenacity and ability to push on through hardship has formed him into the anchor of many a squad, as well as the powerful pillar of strength for those who earn his trust. These positive traits are shadowed by their darker halves, however...
His enduring and tenacious spirit make him rigid and unyielding.
His tirelessness and physical discipline make him unsympathetic to the weakness of others.
His trust, once earned, is unshakable; but the shadows of war and loss make it a hard-earned boon.
Searching for Soul // Yearning, Guilt, Rage ”It felt good. Nothing can ever bring him back, I know that now, but Torfan… Torfan felt good. I don’t like that. I don’t know what it means for me.”
Hyperion is wrestling with an emptiness. Volatile emotions whirl within at the thoughts of Torfan, his son, and the state of the Galaxy at large. Dreams of the stars turned to the nightmares of war; the hope of a family burned into the ashes of vengeance; duty to an ideal faded into the nothingness of the non-believer.
He’s searching for something. Something to believe in.
E Q U I P M E N T
Jormangund Torrent Assault Rifle "Proud product of humanity, adapting the best of alien tech with our own; you can hold this baby's trigger down for practically the entire firefight without worrying about overheating. Takes spray and pray to a whole new level."
Haliat Armory Stilleto "I will never disparage the quality of Turian ordnance. Their equipment is sturdy, functional, and packs a punch. A slaver nearly put a hole in my head with one of these, and once I recovered from the headache I knew I had to get one myself."
Hane-Kedar Storm Shotgun "It's Ol' Reliable in classic shotgun form. It can handle any weather condition, foul temper, bad attitude, and foolhardy Tango Operative that you can conceive. Cheap to replace, too- but I'll be honest; the shotgun will probably outlast me."
Systems Alliance Mk.14 Grenade(s) - High Explosive Module "Versatile and efficient. I prefer the High Explosive modification over others, I find that the higher yield leads to more utility as a breaching charge. Battlefield manipulation has become the realm of the Biotics, but I find that good, old fashioned, explosive threats can still get Op-For out of cover and into the killing field."
Rosenkov Materials Heavy Titan Armor "Rosenkov is an old name, and I put stock in old names. They take pride in their work and it shows. Every dent in this armor is a reminder that it's doing its job."
R E C O R D
2149 - Chasing A Dream: Joining the Systems Alliance Laine Severn, 21, joins the Systems Alliance. Dreams of the stars carry him forth.
2157 - First Contact War: Shanxi A Dream becomes a Nightmare; Severn earns his stripes.
2164 - ICT Program Graduation: Achieving N7 The Galaxy is large, crowded, and potentially hostile. The Alliance prepares Severn to face it.
2176 - The Skyllian Blitz + The Anhur Rebellions: The Wings of Vengeance Colonies torn asunder by conflict. On one, a war won; on the other, a son lost.
2178 - Massacre at Torfan: Prelude to the Fall Severn's vengeance is wrought. With his purpose fulfilled, the Galaxy feels empty.
2179-Present Day - The Lone Gun: Rock Bottom No longer driven by Duty or Purpose, Severn retires from the Alliance. The veteran soldier strikes out into the galaxy as a lone gun for hire, searching for a reason to live. In a grand sense of irony, he takes the name Hyperion.
C O N N E C T I O N S
Suzette Norfleet // "The Witch." ”As brilliant a woman as they come. The citadel was seemingly a great place for a high grade psychologist to end up. Last I heard, she works for someone called ‘The Consort’. I don’t really understand it to be honest, but she seems fulfilled. We haven’t talked much since the divorce, but when work takes me to the Citadel she usually lends me a few words of advice. It always comes with a catch, though- that woman never changes... We're not as close as we used to be, but she was his mother and that still means something to me.”
Fil’Zorul Nar Zako // "Phil." "Phil's a troublemaker, but weren't we all when we were young? Phil has a knack for getting into stupidly dangerous situations trying to make some money- but so far his track record shows him to be a squirrely bastard who's probably even smarter than I already think he is. The first time I met Phil, he was jury rigging combat mechs for a gang on Omega. I was hired to wipe that gang out, and he seemed enthusiastic about changing his career paths. Who knew that buying a lonely kid a few drinks would get a small army of mechs to switch sides and make that job one of the easiest paychecks of my career? I don't really reach out to Phil so much- but damned if he doesn't find a way to keep in contact with me. Odd jobs, rescue requests, and the occasional gem of scrap tech... I certainly find him plenty useful."
Sur'Kesh Ol'Varo Hurloln Derhant Silik Vilani // "Queenie." "I've never actually met Queenie in person. Turns out she's someone in government in the Salarian Union or something, but to my understanding most of their women are. Sounds like a headache of familial ties to me. I call her Queenie and it seems to amuse her as much as me, so I figure she likes me well enough- but I'm always cautious with her. She's had me hunt down loose threads of her plots that displease her before, and I know that someday it might be my turn to end up on the executioner's block... But until then, she has high grade contacts, deep pockets, and values discretion. Hoorah."
Physical Details ◢
Rising to a height of five feet ten inches tall, Hyperion presents a well built figure. Not a slab of imposing meat or brutish demeanor of the musclehead- but the lean and disciplined frame of career hardship. Muscles are taut and whiplike, movements fluid and powerful, and his physical presence fills the air around him and makes him seem larger than he truly is.
His body is marred by marks both fresh and faded. A myriad of combat wounds and surgery marks riddle his form, but most of his serious injuries over the years weren't able to be concealed by modern medical technology. Notably, a severe scar crosses over his face- an injury from a Batarian's knife- which has never faded fully over the years. His left forearm also bears the severe scarring of a Varren's mauling, this particular wound seeming to agitate him still despite the months of recovery.
His body moves with the languid nature and cool comfort of one to whom armor is a second skin. Even while donning the heavy armor he is known for he makes movement and athleticism seem natural and easy. When operating without the constraints of gravity, he can even almost seem graceful thanks to his Zero-G training and operational experience.
Grey hair accents the grizzled features of the aging man. His face is often rough from stubble, and if given enough time without a shave his beard would grow in thick and full- but by the time it would reach that point he has often brought it back down to rough stubble with the edge of a knife. His eyes, a crystalline blue, can appear quite stunning when they catch light- but are otherwise an extension of the emptiness that grips the man's emotional state. His expressions are subdued and gripped by severity, with rare moments of levity or brightness. His skin is darkened by years of sunlight, foreign and familiar, into a warm tan and lines or wrinkles of a lifetime of labor are beginning to furrow his face.
Personal History ◢
RUINS ON MARS REVEAL ADVANCED TECHNOLOGICAL INNOVATIONS
The headline was sweeping across every datasphere in comprehension. A young man's eyes were glued to the screen as information filled his mind. The world was shaking to its foundations; the colonies on Mars were euphoric and triumphant, the nations of old Earth were in uproar and chasing every thread imaginable. World leaders were calling for unity and co-operation. Something had changed. Something drastic. Something that filled the young man with dreams of the future. His hands trembled as he rapidly checked through different sites and sources- then the screen of his comm shimmered into that of receiving a call.
"Oh my god, Suze." He said with haste upon answering the call. "Are you seeing this- Can you believe this- Alien tech-"
"Yeah, I'm seeing it." She laughed through the call. "Isn't it amazing?"
"I want to be a part of it." His voice trembled even as he said it, the words reaching his own ears at the same time they reached Suzette's. "Whatever it is, I want to be a part of it. This is the future- our future- out there."
The fate of Humanity changed in the year 2148. The discovery of the Prothean ruins on Mars and the unearthing of the mass-effect drives therein irrevocably catapulted the fledgeling species into the, unbeknownst to them, modern era. The following year, eighteen of Earth's largest nations signed the Systems Alliance Charter. The same year, a young Laine Severn forwent his intentions of pursuing an education in physical therapy and transferred to the newly established Systems Alliance Naval Academy. Shortly thereafter he married his highschool sweetheart, Suzette Norfolk. Their marriage was a happy thing, and while they were both in attendance of universities on Earth they spent as much time together as they could manage.
Severn graduated and was given the rank of 2nd Lieutenant. Suzette achieved her doctorate and graduated Magna Cum Laude from Johns Hopkins University. They discovered her pregnancy shortly before Severn's first tour of the stars began. Twelve months later, the now Staff-Lieutenant (B7) Severn returned home to a young, healthy, baby boy.
Hope was kindled for the future.
Sweat clung to his face. No matter how much it stung his eyes, raising his helmet to wipe the insufferable perspiration was out of the question. Silence hummed deafeningly in his ears. His eyes were straining. He took a steadying breath and relaxed. The stale stench of his own breath filled his nostrils, filtering with the fresh oxygen of the atmosphere of the planet.
"Commander, movement." The voice crackled in his ear as a static inflected whisper.
"Pos?" his own parched lips barely moved- radio chatter was dangerous.
"Sector seven. Scavenge team returning."
"Cover them."
He finally moved. The stiffness of his limbs protested, but his armor silently maneuvered- despite the grime, lieutenant Severn kept his gear in high maintenance. The concealing blind he'd been positioned in shifted with him and soon he emerged, rifle braced to his shoulder, onto the outcrop he'd commandeered as a lookout. The city was in ruins. Smoke filled the air. Rubble still shifted uncertainly, prefab ferrocrete disintegrating and destabilizing adjacent structures even now- hours after the last bombardment. He cast his gaze skyward for a moment and swore he could see the bastards up there, gazing down at him, smug in their feelings of superiority...
He hissed under his breath and tore his gaze from that haze filled, blood-red, sky. Sectors two through five were still burning. Nobody knew when the next orbital strike would fall. Nobody knew what the criteria for the strikes were; sometimes they fell on empty city blocks, sometimes it was as if the Turians knew exactly where to place the strikes to kill just a single squad of men. The only solace was that Op-For seemed to be avoiding the refugee centers. Seems even aliens had a conscience and rationale.
That thought didn't diminish the rage and hatred burning in his heart.
Staff-Commander Severn, field promoted after an orbital strike by the Turian sieging forces killed his XO, was a prisoner of war on Shanxi. The dreams of a life among the stars became nightmares of war. The sight of city blocks evaporating into rubble from debris strikes seared into his mind. His hands were bloodied from carrying a wounded companion- bloodied from putting pressure on a wound- bloodied from killing a Turian with his knife- bloodied and clinging to a rifle as he screamed into the night air, his torrential gunfire ripping into the third story of a ruin to suppress a sniper team... Hoping that his bullets would find homes in Turian skulls rather than ferrocrete walls.
He would never forget the hunger. The way he watched an old woman close her eyes to rest- only to never open them again, starvation claiming her at last. He would never forget the sight of General Williams issuing the surrender. He would never forget the feeling of being powerless. He would never forget the pride he felt when the Second Fleet turned the heavens into fireworks and the Turians realized that this war wasn't over yet.
He would never forget the disappointment of being denied revenge.
Peace was brokered. Diplomacy...prevailed. A council revealed; a grand stage presented itself. Humanity accepted the offered olive branch, and Commander Severn returned home.
He takes after Suze, Severn thought to himself. He rubbed his hands together and focused back on the task at hand. With deft movements he slid the spatula across the grill surface, the metal on metal- Knife impacting armor- clang giving way to the sizzle of-Flesh, boiling after the impact of atmospheric debris. Bone revealed in an instant- burger meat as it charred on the grill. He flipped a patty, lifting his eyes to watch as the boy-ran for his life, the shadow of a building falling over his face the moment before realization hit his eyes- folded paper in a delicate manner.
"Whatcha making?" He called out to the boy. He sniffed once, the smell of-Blood, charred flesh, gunsmoke- well-done beef wafting up to him. One more flip and the meat was deposited onto a plate, ready to be doctored up and served.
"A crane today. Mama says that origami helps build focus and strengthens your attention span. She says she wished you would do it, too, you know." God above, he's so bright for a thirteen year old. Severn mused.
"Your mother says a lot of things. Most of them are right." He said in a gruff voice. "...Almost all of them, really, but don't tell her I said that."
His son's laughter was like ambrosia. It soothed his heart more than anything else in this world ever could. He opened his mouth to speak, but tensed up. Imperceptibly- but Suzette would notice. She always did. The door behind him slid open, and his hand tightened on the spatula he gripped.
The year Severn spent at home was difficult. He got to see his child's thirteenth birthday. Got to meet some of his friends for the first time. Was able to attend one of Suzette's conferences on the subject of Human and Xenoneurological similarities. He had to restrain himself from punching one of her colleagues who wouldn't stop commenting on how 'astounding' the aliens' differences were...
He felt if they were at Shanxi, they wouldn't find their differences so romantic.
"...Laine, there's a man here to see you. From the Alliance." Suzette said in a quiet, delicate, voice.
The way the tension eased out of his body when she said those last words wasn't lost on her. He knew she'd notice. The way she watched him was downright unnerving; their bedroom had been cold since Shanxi. Their dinner tables tense. Their home troubled. But through it all was the warmth and love of the boy, holding them together. Strong, for his sake. Severn nodded and set the plate aside, swiftly closing and turning off the grill.
Cooking had been a sort of therapy for Severn. He'd taken to mastering the grill in his newly discovered free time. His mornings still started early with rigorous PT, his evenings were still spent in the discipline of exercise and study, but his days were devoid of the comradery he'd become used to on a ship, or the intimate bond of his fellow marines on a planet's surface, or the irrevocable bond of the prisoners of Shanxi...
So he spent them with his son, with the grill, and with the oven. For a few months, he was content and able to forget Shanxi. That relaxation lasted only a short while, as whenever he found himself beginning to think about the sensation of peace the fires of war filled his mind again. Opportunity came knocking as tensions in his household rose.
He blinked, and found himself seated across from a uniformed man- bearing no insignia or rank.
"Commander, how has your vacation been?"
"Restless, sir." He said evenly.
"I understand that. The Alliance has an opportunity for you. Your record, and the testimony of those you served with on Shanxi, has made you a candidate."
"A candidate?"
"For the Interplanetary Combatives Training program. You're up for special forces, son."
Severn breathed in quietly. Held the breath. Let it out. Shanxi flickered in his eyes.
"Why me?" He asked at last.
"Commander, we used to be big fish in what we thought was a galaxy sized pond. Turns out the pond was a thimble and now we're sure of nothing. Are you willing to fight for your species, son? Like you did on Shanxi? When your back was on the wall, you performed. That's what we're looking for. The training will be hard. There's no shame in turning down the offer."
Severn rose to his feet and threw a formal salute.
"Hoorah, sir. When do I ship out?"
Severn spent five years accomplishing the rigorous and brutal cycles of the ICT program. He was rarely home. His son grew into a man in the time he was away. His wife's accolades carried her into the stars. Severn achieved the rank of N7 the same year his son joined a colonial incentive scholarship with the Johns Hopkins university geological science program. He was following in his mother's footsteps, and Severn couldn't have been prouder.
Elysium was a paradise, after all.
Twelve years of special forces operations within Council Space and the Terminus Systems brought accolade and laudation upon Commander Severn (N7) and his family name. His son had become a respected geological scientist, Suzette had established herself as one of the pioneers of Human-Xeno relations on the field of brain study, and he was beginning to earn the reputation of a Hero of Humanity in the quiet circles who knew of his deeds.
A problem arose in the Anhur system. Commander Severn and his task force were to assist the Human interests on the colony discretely; the Council was stonewalling Human requests for aid, and the Systems Alliance brass didn't want to risk destabilizing the delicate house of cards the Alliance Politicians were building on the Citadel...
Which meant it was a one way trip.
Severn tightened his grip on the Batarian's wrist and twisted his arm even more severely, his other hand braced on the prisoner's shoulder to secure the joint lock.
"I'm only going to ask you nicely one more time, Batarian. Where are the forces going to deploy at Bast?"
"Fuck off!" the Batarian wheezed through clenched teeth. "If you were going to kill me, you would have by now- I'm not telling you anything!"
Severn grunted with the effort and wrenched the Batarian's arm further, a sickening snap filling the air as he shattered the prisoner's elbow. With a derisive kick, he knocked the legs of the chair from under the screaming Batarian and walked from the room. He was shaking his head and staring at his hands quietly as the door sealed behind him.
"Commander." A woman saluted by the door. "Any luck?"
"No. He's as stubborn as they all are." Severn growled in his raspy voice. "Any luck with the communications?"
"Aye, sir. We managed to receive a critical transmission across the emergency channel. Nothing for us, but..." Her hesitation brought Severn's eyes up from his hands and onto her own. His eyes were dark in the shadows of the bunker they operated out of, and tainted by the cruelty he felt justified in enacting just moments before.
"But?" he queried sternly. The woman waivered, then spoke.
"It's Elysium, sir. The Batarians are attacking it. It was a sudden assault, co-ordinated by a pirate warlord. They're sieging it. Last word out of the colony was that a debris strike was launched indiscriminately before raiding parties descended. It sounds bloody, sir."
Severn fell silent at those words. After a few moments he raised his hand.
"Lieutenant, your sidearm."
"Sir, yes sir." She responded curtly, placing her pistol into his hand. She turned her back smartly as Severn entered the sealed room once more.
She pretended she didn't hear the gunshot.
The Anhur Rebellions were a blur of blood and smoke to Commander Severn. His unit operated with Eclipse Mercenaries as well as local militia, providing fire support and tactical supervision when able- and operating as a shadow unit of critical strike capability otherwise. The guerilla warfare of the local militia meshed well with the N7 task force's discretionary requirements, and the Eclipse mercenaries offered convenient excuses for direct confrontation when needed. All things considered, it was a bloody war- but one that abolitionists would probably remember as a victory for sapient being rights.
Commander Severn would remember it as yet another circle of Hell he was passing through. When his unit was exfiltrated, the first news of home he received, purely due to a thoughtless organizational error of a rookie yeoman, was a declaration of intent to divorce. The second was that his son's funeral had already been held, and he was permitted to visit the honorary grave site at his leisure. The third was a briefing from Alliance brass about a retaliatory strike against the Batarians at Torfan.
The Blitz had tipped the scales in favor of the Alliance; they could strike back now without fear of repercussion from the Citadel Council.
The sky was on fire. Debris of an Alliance ship drifted overhead, flames licking across its hull as it split apart in the upper atmosphere and split into dozens of superheated fragments.
Taking heavy losses- What the hell is going on down there- the radio crackled, and the sky split asunder as a series of Alliance warships unloaded a barrage that resulted in a cataclysmic series of explosions across the sky. The shockwaves rippled outward as the fleet continued its systematic eradication of the Batarian naval forces...
Severn could almost feel the explosions in his skull.
Shepard, what in God's name is going on- The Batarians are surren-
Major Kyle's voice was trying to assert itself over the communications channels, but it was to no avail. The depths of the Batarian strongholds in the lunar surface were interfering with the communications to the command ship- but a signal on the moon's surface rang through strong and clear.
This is for the Blitz. They took slaves and butchered our families even as they cowered in their homes. Show no mercy, accept no surrender. They've earned this. It's their turn to cry for help.
Her voice was that of an Archangel. Her words were orders unto themselves; her wrath was contagious; her fury was Severn's own, boiling up from within and gripping the entire Galaxy in its destructive jaws.
He descended into the labyrinthine fortress. The final level of Hell. He dove in head first, spearheading a charge into its darkness and depths with a scream of righteous fury. He held down the trigger of his rifle until the heat sink screamed and the gun broke apart in his hands. He slashed with his knife and clubbed with his pistol beyond the point of exhaustion and numbness. He screamed until his throat was raw and blood bubbled from his lips. He cried until he couldn't anymore. He killed until there wasn't anyone left to kill.
When he came to, it was to Major Kyle's voice in his ear;
May God have mercy on us all.
Severn pushed himself off the ground, coated in the gore of his vengeance, and looked around slowly at the daze and fervor of his surviving allies. They'd just made Shanxi look like child's play. That realization struck him with such force it was like taking the first breath of fresh air in decades.
Commander Laine Severn (N7) retired after the battle of Torfan. He finally visited his son's grave and found he had no more tears to shed. The hollowness of guilt gripped his heart. His faith in Humanity was shaken. He disappeared into the Galaxy at large.
Combat Analysis ◢
"Form up on me; Op-For consists of five tangos, well equipped and ready for us. They're itching to get out of this in one piece just like we are. Call your shots and keep friendlies in periphery. Tight formation; anchor on me; sweep and clear. On my mark... Go."
Hyperion has the training of an elite N7 Commando, with specialized training in Shock and Awe tactics and leadership experience in squad based operational scenarios. In plain language, he's a tough sonuvabitch with command experience who likes to end fights quickly. He is well versed in the handling of all modern equipment of war, with a foundation of terrestrial vehicle operation and shuttlecraft piloting- though these are not his area of expertise. The most stunning aspect of Hyperion's combat analysis is the mastery of his armor systems and his role as the 'anchor' of a squad's maneuvers...
His own lethality is impressive; his ability to take a hit and get back up is incredible; his capacity to enable the success of others in his unit, however, is what truly sets him apart.
"I don't want to see anyone playing hero. Watch my back and I'll watch yours; if we can't agree to that, then nothing else matters."
Reason for Vacating Previous Situation ◢
"I was hitting the bottom of my cred line. You can't really 'disappear' on Illium, but I'm a nobody there unless someone needs to hire a gun. The only issue is that damn near everything costs double on that planet. I was scraping together the last of the creds to punch my ticket on a shuttle off-world and coming up short when I got a ping from Queenie. She always seems to find me when I need money the most, so I took the call...
Exo-Geni. Big name, big work. I didn't have anything better to do and funds were low. I told Queenie that she'd have to forward me the fare for transport; she told me I'd have to pay her back with interest. Fair enough, Queenie. Fair enough."
Edit: I realized I spelled 'Ordnance' 'Ordinance'. Hyperion can probably disparage Turian Ordinances quite well, but not their Ordnance.
Edit 2: Added a song link to a tune I felt appropriate to the character.
Guardian Angel Haruki
rush99999
Pilatus
mattmanganon
wanderingwolf
ColdAtlas
Lurking Krog
Damycles
QueenBea
Noctis
