Xanadu

Mass Effect: Renegade

@Inkarnate That's completely understandably and thank you for keeping up with the communication throughout! I'll add you to the list of names in case we ever need a spot to be filled!

@Monochromatic Rainbow
Gotcha' I'll let y'know if I see anything amiss!

And finally here is Batch#2!!!!

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@Rtron

Kopris

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_{K O P R I S C A N ' S O B A R
⟁ 40 ⟁ Male ⟁ Batarian ⟁ Vanguard}

"The most important thing in life is family." <- Quotes!

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

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Kopris Can'sobar looks like he always expects a fight. His scarred face is in what appears to be a permanent scowl and glare, twisting the gnarled mass of scar tissue around his missing top right eye (the eyeball itself replaced with a simple black marble) even more than it would be normally. His surprisingly powerful (for his age) frame always slightly tensed, wide shoulders slightly hunched, as if ready to react in a second. Over a decade in the Batarian Special Intervention Unit and in the Terminus systems have taught him to expect the worst out of every situation and every person he meets. That way, he won't ever be caught off guard.

The only times Kopris to not have a scowl and a glare, and seems to relax, is when he's asleep, when he's baking, or when he's otherwise reminiscing about his family. His face and body relax, showing a gentler side that Kopris hasn't been in touch with for many years. The face of a man who would rather heal than hurt, who wants to help people. Of course, as soon as he notices someone is watching, or he wakes up, the same scowl and tenseness returns.

If you were to ever see Kopris without his clothes, you would see a body marked by a lifetime of war. A multitude of scars are across his body. Bullet holes, cuts, stabs, bites, claw marks, there is a startling amount of variety in the types of damage he has received. All telling a story of who he fought and how they fared. Kopris, while not entirely certain of where every single one came from, can usually tell you where he was when he got the majority of them and who he got them from. On his right forearm, there is a tattoo of a Batarian skull with a knife stabbed through the top. A banner floats from the hilt of the knife reading, in the Batarian language: "We will reclaim what was stolen." A memento from his SIU days, and perhaps the closest he ever got with his fellow SIU members.

On his left forearm is another phrase, also in the Batarian language, reading: "For my family, I will sacrifice." A reminder of what he was fighting for. Something he could look at when he was knee deep in blood and shit and needed something to fortify his resolve. To give him strength. Now it's only a painful reminder of what he has lost, but also a connection to who he was that he desperately clings too. <- Tis' a good line!

He's normally in dark clothing with an eye for function rather than comfort. Combat boots, fatigues, and a t-shirt. A habit he picked up from his time in the Hegemony's military as a surgeon and medic, when there was never any time to clean of bloodstains and he had to be ready to move in a moments notice. Looking closely one can see that there are small stains on all of his clothing. Fluids from operations long pasts, cigar ash being accidentally ground into the fabric, cleaning fluid from when he cleans the Medbay, etc etc. While far from the point of smelling or being actually unhygienic, it's clear that Kopris doesn't care about his own cleanliness nearly as much as does care about his equipment's cleanliness.

_{B A C K G R O U N D}

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Born to Ja'Kho and Ekranya Can'sobar, the importance of sacrifice for, and loyalty to, family was impressed upon Kopris from a young age. His family was near the very bottom of Batarian society, only barely above that of slaves. They managed to eek a living out, ignored at best and scorned by those with higher standing at worse. It wasn't a good life, by any means, but they were happy with each other. They were saving what little money they could to begin slowly buying their way up the ladder of society, to a better life.

When Ekranya became pregnant with Kopris, Ja'Kho didn't want this life for his son. He couldn't wait any longer for their slow plan to work, otherwise Kopris would live far too much of his life in the filth they had lived all of theirs. So, he joined the Hegemony's military to support and save his family from the bottom. <-What type of unit did he serve in? A completion of military service in the Hegemony guaranteed a rise in social status for them. Not a large one, granted, but a comfortable one. One that was leagues better than scraping for food and supplies at the bottom of one of Kar'shan's magnificent cities, scuttling along like insects that were beneath the notice of those above. Ja'Kho was a man who was willing to sacrifice for his family, and sacrifice he did. He never told his wife nor Kopris about what he did during his tour of duty, but the scars on his body, his sometimes empty stare, and his missing right hand told stories enough all by themselves.

Ekranya, for her part, continued to work. The money Ja'Kho was making while in the military was enough to keep the hovel they had currently as a home from being taken away, but not much else. Even though she was pregnant she worked with Eezo in the factories of Kar'Shan, refining it for the warships of the empire. There were many accidents in the factory, as her caste and others like her were considered expendable. Production was all that mattered, not safety. As a result, eezo dust would be frequently released into the air and inhaled by Ekranya. She recited prayers from the Pillars to give her and Kopris the strength to resist any harmful mutagens, and continued on. Her husband was sacrificing for them in the military, and she needed to sacrifice for them in the factories. She continued to work even after giving birth to Kopris, paying what little she could afford to have a trusted friend watch him while she worked. Born in 2138, these were the conditions of Kopris' first two years of life. He doesn't remember himself, but his mother would often tell him stories of how seeing his bright smile would give her the strength to go on, even after a horrible day at the factory.

In 2140, one eezo accident too many left Ekranya blind in her right eyes, and unable to work. Things looked dark. Ja'Kho's money keeping their hovel meant little if they couldn't afford any food to eat. Fortunately, Ja'Kho would be discharged the week after and they would be given a safe home. An actual home, above the filth of the ground and scrapping of their caste below them. Where she would be safe, and they could raise their child away from the filth he had known all his short life. It wasn't as high in status as they would have liked, they were unable to afford personal slaves of their own and had to rent out other's from time to time for example, but it was much better than where they had been.

From an early age it was clear that Kopris was an intelligent and gentle child. Always curious and asking questions, he would pick up information quickly, much to the delight of his parents. He would find injured insects or animals and ask his parents how best to help the creatures, tearing up when told that there was nothing that could be done. His parents always pushed him to go into something great, something that would help himself and others. To use his gifts to the fullest of their potential. Especially his father. The one time that he expressed interest in following in his father's footsteps, and joining the Hegemony's military, his father curtly shut it down. "No son. The military isn't what you believe it to be. It's only an option for those with no choices left before them. You have hundreds of choices before you. Your mother and I have seen to that." Kopris merely nodded, and let it go. His father had spoken, and that was good enough for him.

Kopris idolized his father as the epitome of the Pillars of Strength. The man had fought for his family, sacrificed for his family, and continued to endure for his family. He suffered snide remarks from his supposed equals about buying his way to his current status, thinly veiled insults of cowardice to survive in the military to get this far, all so that Ekranya and Kopris could continue to have a good life. To Kopris, Ja'Kho was the greatest hero to ever live.

To pay back his parents for all that they had sacrifice for him, all they endured for him, Kopris threw himself into his studies. He would live up to the potential they saw in him and he would ensure that his family got the life they deserved, one way or another. He wanted to help people, to heal them. To never have to accept 'there is nothing to be done' as an answer again. So he threw himself into the medical studies and practice, determined to become the best doctor he could be.

At the age of nineteen, after several hard years of study and practice, he became a surgeon. The pride in his parents' eyes that day, as he was officially recognized as a doctor and a surgeon would stay with him forever. He met a woman during his first year as a surgeon, a nurse by the name of Dalea. She was a strong willed, fiery woman, and Kopris fell head over heels for her at almost first sight.

His initial attempts at wooing her were...bad, to put it politely. Having put all of his efforts and time into studying, Kopris had never actually given the opposite sex a thought, much less a look. His romantic overtures ranged from awkwardly cute (such as when he tried to read her terribly written poetry) to so laughably bad they were cringe inducing (such as when he tried to compare her beauty to the natural beauty of an intestinal system). I like this section! It is very cute When he discovered that Dalea harbored a sweet tooth, however, that's when Kopris turned the charm on, and the oven. He spent countless hours over his family's oven, trying to perfect the deserts that Dalea favored, and leaving her little candied gifts and sweets with notes that were actually somewhat romantic (he had thankfully moved past trying to compare her to organs or organ systems).

Unbeknownst to Kopris, he was slowly winning Dalea over. It wasn't through his direct attempts. Those were endearing, but obviously not his forte. What won her over was how much he cared about his job and what he was doing. He treated every patient with the same amount of respect and care, giving reassurances to those afraid, jokes to those who needed laughter, and professionalism to those who only wanted to be in and out.

His best aspects stood out not when he was reciting badly written poetry, but when he was making a little girl giggle through her tears as he gently inspected her broken arm, when he was listening intently to an old man's rambling stories as he inspected the results from the latest test, or when he was reassuring a panicked visitor that everything that could be done for their loved one would be done for their loved one. He went to great lengths to ensure his patient's care and comfort, and cared for each one deeply. #Goodguy Korpis That, coupled with how devoted he was to family, finally won her over and she agreed to let him take her out to dinner.

They would marry in the next year, and soon had a child on the way. When Dalea was pregnant Kopris became an extreme mother hen. As Dalea left her job to prepare for the birth and their child (Kopris making more than enough to support them both) he waited on her hand and foot as much as he could, ensuring she never wanted for anything nor needed to do anything. It drove her up the wall . "I'm not made of glass you know!" Was a phrase consistently thrown at him, when his hovering would grow too much. He'd always win her over with another baked desert or a pocket sweet, cooling her temper.

On the night of their child's birth, Kopris found himself overcome with nerves and the pressure for the first time in a long time. He paced worriedly outside of the room, waiting for news, prayers falling from his lips. He was never in his life more relieved than when the door opened and he heard the healthy cries of a baby and his wife's voice tiredly calling him into to see their son. He was named Dal'ran, and Kopris had never felt a more instantaneous love and desire to protect than when he looked into the four eyes of his infant son.

With his wealth gained from being a surgeon, Kopris was able to purchase a rise in the social hierarchy for not only himself,his wife, and his child, but his parents as well. My question here would be where did he work then? I'm assuming a high class hospital? And if that's the case how did he get a job there if he had a relatively low position in the social ladder? Merit alone? Did he make friends during his education. etc They could finally live the life of comfort and peace they had always deserved with a new home and obedient slaves to see after their every desire.

His wife loved him, their child was coming along healthily, he had finally repaid his parents for all that they had sacrificed for him, and his family's safety was secure. Life was good for Kopris, and he was happy. The reports of a minor war between the Turians and a new race known as 'humans' were only mildly interesting at best. They were no threat too the Batarian Hegemony, and of no interest to Kopris or his family. He merely continued to focus on caring for his wife and child, and dealing with the medical problems that came at him on a day to day basis.

Three years later, the humans began aggressively colonizing the Skyllian Verge. The Hegemony called it an invasion, a theft of Batarian interests that they as a people had worked so tirelessly for. The Council not only refused to protect Batarian interests, but threw them out of the Citadel when they protested. The humans were the favored, and the Batarians could rot.

Such was the story that Kopris, his family, and the rest of the civilians of the Hegemony were told, at any rate. And they accepted it as the complete truth. After all, why would their government lie to them? Anti-human propaganda began pouring out, stirring hatred, as the Hegemony's economy tanked with the sudden lack of trade from the Citadel races. The Element Zero rich colony of Camala couldn't support the entirety of the Hegemony by itself, no matter how wealthy of a colony it was. As resources became scarce, strict rations were implemented and often brutally enforced. As the lower ranks of the social hierarchy began to starve,

Even Kopris and his family began to feel the strain, as less and less people could afford to see a surgeon, more content to simply endure their pain than spend money that could be used for food on a doctor. Those that could were few and far in between, and rarely needed Korpis' talents. His hospital had to let Kopris go, unable to justify the cost of paying him as their own costs soared and their income plummeted. The same thing was happening in hospitals across the city, and none of the others could afford to take him on.

Not a man to let his family suffer without doing anything, Kopris scrounged whatever jobs he could whenever he could. Cleaning, trash collecting, butchering, whatever was available Kopris took it without complaint. It was barely enough to scrape by, but it worked. Prayers from the Pillars were constantly upon his lips as he waited for the economy to recover. The Hegemony promised it would. It had too. He had no other options if it didn't.

The tensions in the cities shattered after 6 months of true starvation by the lower castes, igniting into food riots and bloodshed. The security forces of Kopris' city were quickly overwhelmed, and the enraged mob only grew as rebelling slaves and other wronged and starving groups joined it. The violence was heading straight for Kopris and his family, and they were desperately trying to get to safety. Kopris and his wife and child went ahead, only reluctantly leaving Ja'Kho and Ekranya with assurances that they would follow right behind, and that they shouldn't be worried about. Kopris managed to get Dalea and Dal'ran behind the high walls and armed guards of the security force's headquarters, and hurried back for his parents. They were supposed to have been right behind them, grabbing only their most precious items. He removed anything that would have indicated that he wasn't apart of the mob, and hurried to his home, praying that the worst hadn't happened.

His prayers were ignored.

Kopris found his mother and father murdered in the home he had bought them, their precious items scattered across the floor, the house ransacked. They hadn't been able to leave before the mob broke its way in. A numbness flooded him as he woodenly examined the bodies, both fruitlessly checking to see if they were somehow still alive, and making sure that their eyes hadn't been defiled so their souls could exit their bodies.

Kopris found a cold solace in the fact that they appeared to have died quickly, and not tortured by a mob that they used to be a part of. He didn't remember making his way back to Dalea and Dal'ran. He only knew that one moment he was walking through the streets, the next he was in Dalea's arms, sobbing uncontrollably.

It took a full month for order to be restored to the city, and by then Kopris' back was against the wall. He , Dal'ran, and Dalea had no home left to return to, there was next to no paying work left in the city even with all of the violence that had occurred, and he needed to make sure his family was safe besides. They could only stay so long in the headquarters of the security forces, and he was loathe to leave them with no place safe place to stay. Just as despair was beginning to set in, his father's words came back to him.

"The military isn't what you believe it to be. It's only an option for those with no choices before them."

Kopris had no choices left, and he needed to protect what family he had left. The military would protect his family, in return for his service. Dalea was against the idea. "You're not a killer, Kopris! You're a healer. The military, all it does is turn people into killers! It'll destroy you!" She argued, half-pleadingly. Kopris stood firm. His family needed him to sacrifice, and that is exactly what he would do. No matter what was required, he would sacrifice to protect them.

With Kopris being unswayed, and having no better alternatives to suggest, Dalea reluctantly agreed. That same day, Kopris signed up to be assigned a military position, and his family was assigned protected military housing. Within hours, Kopris was designated to basic training, then training for the Special Intervention Unit. <- Why was he shipped of to the SIU? I'm assuming because of his medical experience? His tour of duty would be indefinite, until the Hegemony could restore order to their space. He kissed Dalea and Dal'ran goodbye, and boarded the shuttle to the training camp. Fear coursed through him as the ship left the planet. There had been stories about the SIU, and none of them good. Soon, if he survived, he was going to be the cause of those stories. Kopris looked at the picture of Dalea and Dal'ran in his hand, and felt his resolve return. He would protect them. No matter the cost.

Basic training proved little trouble for Kopris. He soaked up the necessary information like a sponge, and was able to take the necessary physical fitness in stride. It was discovered that he was an average biotic (a lucky mutagen from when his mother had worked while pregnant with him). He didn't have any biotic power to write home about, but it was enough to get him a biotic implant and begin training more dedicated to him controlling his newfound powers. While certainly not a breeze for him, this also posed no significant challenge and he made his way quickly through that training as well. Neither basic training nor his biotic training did anything to prepare him for what was to come, however, as he was shipped off to specialized training in the SIU.

The first month of SIU training nearly destroyed him. A lifelong healer and gentle soul, Kopris found the brutal training and encouragement of merciless, often cruel, violence against your enemies nearly unbearable both physically and emotionally. In the sparring sessions, where the goal was to beat down your opponent (often into a bloody mess) he would hesitate, not wanting to hurt or cripple his opponent, and end up beaten to the ground himself. In the live fire training he would flinch and freeze up at the sound of gunfire whistling around and above him, and the explosions booming near him. Fear ripping through him at the thought of what could happen to him if he made but one mistake. Each day left him physically exhausted, and emotionally ruined. This was made worse by the fact that they were cut off from all contact outside of the training camp. He couldn't hear his wife's reassuring voice, or his son's joy bringing laughter. The only thing that kept him from crying every night was the ruthless mockery of his supposed squad mates. Kopris was isolated and alone.

By the end of the first month Kopris was certain he was doomed. It was final testing day, the day that they proved themselves worthy of continuing on, of becoming SIU members. Those that failed would be sent home. Kopris was certain he was going to fail, when he woke up that morning. He was the worst of the unit, and everyone knew it. He was too gentle, too weak, too kind hearted for what the SIU was. He didn't have what was necessary to serve the Hegemony.

As he stepped into the sparring ring for what he believed was the last time, Kopris was resigned. He would be rejected and thrown out, and return to Dalea a failure. And then...Kopris paused as he thought of the future after his failure. And then what? Sit there and watch as his wife and child starved on the streets? The Hegemony was still in an economical depression. There were no hospitals that would, or could, take him. If he was lucky, Dalea and Dal'ran would die quickly and painlessly in their sleep, though it was more likely they would die slowly and painfully on the streets, staring at Kopris. Staring at the man who had failed to protect the only important thing in his life.

But that was only if he failed here. As he stared across the sparring ring at his sneering opponent, Kopris felt something harden and snap inside of him. This man was an obstacle. A danger to his family. If he beat Kopris here, Dalea and Dal'ran would suffer and die. Kopris wouldn't let that happen. He couldn't let that happen. He would sacrifice anything and everything for his family, even if that meant sacrificing who he was.

When the fight began, Kopris no longer hesitated. He no longer felt any pity or remorse for what he had to do. His opponent had made the mistake of getting in between Kopris and his family's safety, and now he would pay for it. Kopris ducked under a swing by the other man, and slammed his fist into his opponent's ribs, breaking one. As the man sucked in breath to yell in pain, stepping backwards, Kopris kicked into the straightened knee, snapping it backwards. As the man fell to the ground, Kopris leapt on him and delivered two punches to the side of the skull, knocking him out. It was brutal, and efficient, with no emotion to it. Kopris did not hate his opponent. He was merely an obstacle that needed to be removed. He had shoved the part of him that was appalled and horrified at what he had done and was going to do deep down inside of himself and smothered it with ruthless logic and cold drive. And so, with an emotionless, ruthless, determination Kopris threw himself into the SIU training, rising to the top of his unit and specializing as the unit's combat medic. He wasn't going to fail his family. He couldn't.

Kopris would graduate and be almost immediately sent into Hegemony d[svr<-??? to restore order to the chaos that the Batarian's removal from the Council had brought. He was allowed one live video chat with his family, both relieved to see each other alive and well after so long a period of silence, and then he was shipped off. In those years, serving as the Hegemony's fist, Kopris and his brothers in the SIU would put down slave rebellions, crush caste uprisings, torture and eliminate outspoken enemies of the Hegemony, prevent spies from escaping to Council space, and do countless other monstrous things to ensure the safety and security of the Hegemony.

Kopris executed all of his orders with the same exact emotionless efficiency he had shown that day in SIU training. There was nothing personal in any of these events. They were simply threats to his family's safety, and he could not allow them to endanger his family. Despite this front Kopris displayed, and how hard he tried to distance himself emotionally from what he was doing, each atrocity chipped away at who he was before joining the SIU, leaving less and less of Kopris himself, and more and more of the perfect, unquestioning soldier of the Hegemony. Even as he felt more and more of himself slipping away, Kopris pressed on. If that was what was required to guarantee his family's safety, it would be done.

He could see that it was worrying Dalea in the brief video chats they were allowed in between missions. Her eyes would be staring at him more and more worriedly each time, not being reassured when he tried to tell her that he was fine, that everything would be okay at the end of his tour of duty. She didn't believe him, but nodded anyway. Kopris could feel the distance growing between them, with each useless reassurance he gave.

Dal'ran seemed to be growing a foot taller every time Kopris saw him over the video, and he seemed to be recognizing his father less each time. It had been years since they had seen each other in person, and that gnawed away at Kopris. Doubting thoughts would begin to slip into his mind, past his attempts to keep them repressed. What was he doing here? Why was he hurting these people who were only desperate for shelter and food? What good was he doing, aside from having his son grow up with an absent father and his wife grow ever more distant from him? These thoughts would be repelled, however, each time Dalea reassured him that they were still safe in military housing, and that they were receiving half of his pay monthly. He was protecting his family, and providing for them. No matter how much it hurt, he had to keep moving forward.

During his missions throughout Batarian space, there were rumors that the Hegemony was preparing a retaliatory strike against the Systems Alliance for its theft of what was rightfully Batarian planets. Rumors that their unit was helping control the chaos caused by the invasion of the Verge, while the Hegemony was directing most of its resources to a quiet military build up to retaliate against the humans. Kopris paid no mind to these rumors, focusing only on the tasks given to him. If the Hegemony asked him to, he would wage war against the Alliance. For now, his focus was returning order to Batarian space.

The rumors were confirmed when his unit received orders that they were being transferred to the Batarian External Forces <- Why did he get transfered? Was it kind of an all hands on deck situation?, to begin striking back against the Systems Alliance. They were told they would begin the Batarian reclamation of the Verge. Their destination was a farming colony, ordered by their commanders to be made an example of what happens when you steal Batarian territory; Mindoir.

In 2170, Kopris and his unit helped spearhead the attack on the unsuspecting farming colony. It was a nightmare given life. Civilians were massacred without any regard or care. Women and children. Old and young. The surrendering and the defiant. Their orders were to exterminate the majority of the colony, and enslave the rest. As he carried out the attack on Mindoir with the same emotionless efficiency he had enacted during his entire career in the SIU, Kopris could feel the last part of himself left cracking and breaking under the strain. Treacherous, weak, thoughts began to worm their way back into his mind.

What was he doing? He was a doctor, a healer, not a murderer. These people had done nothing to him, or the Hegemony, and only wanted to live their lives. They weren't even trying to fight back anymore, simply struggling to stay alive, mourning the dead, or simply fleeing. If he stopped now, maybe he could save some. Maybe he could help them survive and then-. The flood of thoughts came crashing to a halt. And then what? He would be designated a traitor, and even if he survived the retribution of his own unit (not to mention the entirety of the Batarian forces on the colony) his family would suffer as a result. The Hegemony did not tolerate traitors, nor their families, and would doubtlessly make an example of them. By saving these people, he'd be dooming his own family. He had no choice. Kopris raised his assault rifle, and gunned down another fleeing colonist.

With the attack complete and the colony destroyed, they turned to their secondary objective of enslaving the survivors. This was where Kopris' background as a surgeon came to be the most use for the unit. He was designated as the one attaching the cranial implants. For what seemed like days he was attaching the implants, over and over again as the colonists begged and pleaded and screamed. The last part of the man he was finally snapped and died, leaving Kopris with no regrets. No hesitation.

When reports came in of Alliance ships coming to rescue the planet, Kopris was pulled from attaching the implants to where the front lines were expected to be. Their defenses were dug tightly in and ready, but every capable medic was still required to be on hand. The Alliance military wasn't something that could just be easily ignored, no matter how much they were hated by all of his comrades. As the marines landed and his comrades jeered and howled, Kopris couldn't bring himself to do more than view them as yet another threat to his family, an obstacle that had to be removed, no matter what. He didn't hate the humans, despite the endless propaganda produced by the Hegemony. They were merely in his way.

Kopris doesn't clearly remember the counter-attack. It's a blur of bullets, artillery fire, biotics being thrown about, and the screams of the wounded and dying. He doesn't know how many he pulled from the frontline, patched up, stabilized and had withdrawn to the medical tents, or simply shot to end their suffering. Their faces all blurred together into an endless litany of pain, all crying out for Kopris to save them.

At some point he was pulled from the front line himself to operate on the wounded in the medical tents. The last thing he remembers of that day is being exhausted, covered in blood, and barely standing as he was pulled around by the shoulder and told that they were being extracted. The Alliance couldn't break through their defenses, and they had enslaved all surviving colonists they could. It was time to leave before reinforcements arrived. Kopris nodded slowly and dumbly, and stumbled his way back to the transport ship. The last he saw of Mindoir was flames rising as his comrades set fire to the colony.

Rather than being pulled back into Batarian space, as Kopris expected, they were ordered to stay in the contested territory of the Verge, and begin laying the ground work for a larger assault while preventing the Alliance from retaliating. They were to pretend to be a band of roving slavers and pirates. They would not contact anyone from inside the Hegemony, and if they were caught they would not be recognized by the Hegemony as members of the Batarian External Forces. The Hegemony would decry them as terrorists and pirates, and leave them to their fate. They would receive their orders through a secure channel once a month, during which they would also give their reports. Their orders having been given, the feed cut off. Kopris was secretly glad he wouldn't be able to contact Dalea and Dal'ran for an indeterminable amount of time. He didn't know if he could hide what he had done from them.

For the next six years Kopris worked with his unit to weaken the Alliance's position in the Skyllian Verge and strengthen the Hegemony's. They attacked colonies, assassinated alliance officials in the Verge and helped allies of the Hegemony. They helped eliminate rivals of Elanos Haliat, who promised to organize an attack on Alliance territory in the Skyllian Verge if the Hegemony cemented his control over the pirates of the Terminus systems. Soon, with the aid of Kopris's unit and other Batarian External Forces units, Haliat was one of the most powerful pirate kings in the Terminus Systems.

During those six years Kopris became fully aware of just how the Hegemony had lied to its people about the events of the Alliance's colonization and the Council's reactions. They had brought their economic depression upon themselves, out of foolish pride and anger. Kopris wasn't completely surprised. He had helped silence influential criticizers of the government for years in Hegemony space. It wasn't a stretch to say they also spun their own mistakes and failures as the rest of the galaxy against them.

After years of more bloodshed, political maneuvering, and planning the Hegemony and their allies were ready to strike the Alliance again. Kopris and his unit received orders to meet up with Haliat's fleet and prepare for an assault on Elysium, the oldest human colony and a symbol of human achievement in the Verge. They were going to destroy it, and show to the humans that nothing they built on land they stole from the Hegemony would last.

As the attack began, and Kopris and his unit landed on the surface of Elysium to attempt to breach the colony, Kopris knew it was doomed to fail. This wasn't Mindoir, where the colonists had almost no military training and perhaps two guns between them. Elysium was filled with Alliance marines, both active duty and retired, and was closer to Alliance patrol routes. Kopris and his comrades tried desperately to push through the defense of the colony, as the ships of their allies were torn apart in the skies above them. It was another bloodbath, but not only for the humans this time.

Despite the losses they were inflicting upon the colonists, Kopris' unit was being chewed apart by the defenders, and the Batarians weren't making any headway towards their goal. A retreat was soon called, and Kopris ran forward to grab one of his downed squad mates. He wasn't close with any one of them, but he wasn't about to callously leave them to die, either.

As he leaned down and got his shoulder under the arm of the wounded man, a bullet from one of the defenders slammed through his top right eye and out of his head. Fortunately, the angle was wrong for a killing shot and the bullet merely ripped through his top right eye socket. The pain was excruciating, but he couldn't let it get the best of him. Someone's life depended on it. Kopris screamed, blood pouring down the side of his face, but clung to his wounded comrade and hauled him back to where the rest of their unit was waiting. The adrenaline faded as they made their way back towards the shuttle, seeking quick extract before all friendly ships above them were destroyed, and Kopris passed out.

He woke up in a panic (not knowing where he was or what had happened) on the medical center of one of the few Batarian controlled ships that had escaped the disaster of Elysium, a bandage over his right eye. The doctor calmed him down and told him where he was, and then informed him that he would live, but they were unable to save his eye. Instead he would be given a new one. One worthy of his sacrifice. For now, he needed to rest and recover. Kopris agreed, and settled down to rest and recover. It would take several months before his eye was healed enough that he could return to active duty. Several long, boring, months of waiting around and trying to find something to occupy himself with. Was he not allowed to return to his family during this time? To prevent his mind from thinking of all that he had done in the last decade or so of his life. All the harm he had caused, and the lives he had ended or ruined.

It was with relief and almost genuine joy that he returned to his unit. A pearl white marble was in his top right socket, a scripture of the Pillars of Strength written on it. It indicated that he had lost his eye while sacrificing for the Batarian people, and that his soul would not be hindered when it left his body after his death.

Despite the failure of Elysium, his unit's orders remained the same. Weaken the Alliance hold on the Verge, strengthen the Hegemony's. Things were different though, more difficult. The pirates and roving bands of the Terminus Systems were spooked by the destruction of so many ships that had attacked Elysium, and refused to meet with them or hear out their proposals. Alliance officials, now alerted to the very real Batarian threat, were under tighter guard than ever. The next few months were difficult for Kopris and his unit as they struggled to make headway with their orders while avoiding capture or execution by the increased Alliance patrols.

Everything fell apart for Kopris in 2177, a year after the failed assault on Elysium. They appeared for their monthly report and orders and, at first, nothing seemed unusual. The reports and orders were given as normal, quickly and curtly. Time was of the essence, otherwise they risked the Alliance catching the transmission and zeroing in on their position. Still, time seemed to slow and freeze for Kopris as the officer in the hologram looked at him. "Kopris. We regret to inform you that your wife and child were killed during a riot that escalated into a full blown slave rebellion. May the Pillars give you the strength to continue your duty in this difficult time." The transmission cut with a click.

Kopris could feel his world dropping out from beneath him as a cold numbness took over. Dalea and Dal'ran, dead. Killed by rioters who were forced into their desperation by the very government that he was serving as a butcher for. They very government he had given over a decade of his life too, in the express agreement that it would keep his family safe. A government that had taken every part of him and destroyed it, promising to protect Dalea and Dal'ran in return. Kopris was only distantly aware of voices talking to him as he turned and woodenly walked to his quarters. He sat down on his bed and pulled out the picture of his wife and son with a shaky hand. It was the last picture they had taken as a family, before he left for basic training.

Suddenly Kopris was sobbing. I sad A torrent of grief, horror, guilt, and shame tore through him. He had hurt so many people, destroyed so many lives, and for what? Just to fail to protect the most important thing in his life while busy fighting for a cause he didn't even believe in, half way across the galaxy? That couldn't be true. It was a mistake. The galaxy couldn't be that cruel, to allow him to sacrifice so much for his family, only to have them taken away from him after he had given all that he could give to keep them safe. Kopris cried for what seemed like days, curled up in his bed.

When his tears had dried, all that was left was fury and disgust. They wanted him to keep doing his duty? He had already failed at his duty. His only duty in life was to protect his family, and they were dead. He owed them nothing now. He wouldn't serve as their butcher any longer. But he had to wait. There was no where to run, not yet at least. Any attempts at desertion now would only result in them gunning him down, and he wouldn't let them have that satisfaction. No, he would wait. And when the opportunity arose, he would run. Damn them, and damn their war.

His opportunity came only a week later, as they landed on Antirumgon to begin talks with an up and coming pirate captain. They split up into groups of two, walking through the latest temporary town to be put up, and searched for their contact. As soon as he and his partner were out of sight from the rest of the group and relatively isolated, Kopris struck. His enforcer gauntlet crushed the neck and the base of the skull of his partner like a tin can, and the other Batarian dropped without a sound. Moving quickly, Kopris hid the body and got onto the next pirate ship that would take him, leaving behind his old squad and the life he had known for more than a decade.

Instead of feeling relief, satisfaction, or happiness at his escape, Kopris only felt more angry. More enraged. He had escaped, but there was nothing to escape too. There was nowhere for him to go but the Terminus Systems. The Hegemony and its actions had seen to that.

Kopris scarcely remembers the year that followed, it was a blur of constantly being drunk, high, or both. A ball of rage working his way through the Terminus System and doing anything to attempt to drown out the pain that he still felt for his failures. He vaguely remembers cheering at the news of Torfan being eradicated, but not much else. Clarity returned only after an indeterminable amount of time, with Kopris sitting in a disgusting apartment in Omega, staring at the picture of his family with an M-3 Predator in his hand. He was contemplating joining his family and ending the charade. There was nothing for him to live for in the galaxy anymore. No cause for him to fight, no one for him to care about or protect. On the other side, however? His wife and child waited. Peace and rest awaited. Perhaps even forgiveness, if he was lucky.

Despite all the reasons too pull the trigger, Kopris couldn't. He wanted to live, despite all that he had done. Despite the ruin his life had become. Despite the fact that he had nothing left to truly fight for. He wanted to live and keep going, even if it seemed that there was nothing left. After what seemed like an eternity, he put the Predator to the side and sighed, leaning back and staring up at the ceiling. "She would kill me if I only returned to her because I killed myself." He sighed again, and stood up. He was going to need money if he was going to live, so he might as well get started.

Dalea would also kill him if he returned to her after dying from something stupid, like starvation.

_{S K I L L S}

---

First and foremost, Kopris is an extremely skilled surgeon and battlefield medic. He has spent most of his life studying or practicing the art of medicine and saving lives, and has snatched more people from death's door than he cares to remember. He has a wide variety of experience with aliens and faces no more problems patching up humans, turians, krogan, salarians, or asari than he does fellow batarians. The more unusual aliens, such as volus or elcor, he is less competent in, but has studied enough to at least prevent them from dying under his care. His time in the Hegemony's SIU gave him experience in operating on the battlefield, and he's as comfortable patching someone up under a hail of bullets as he is in the medbay. His bedside manner leaves much to be desired, certainly, but there is no one better at keeping you alive.

On the opposite side of the coin of putting someone back together is tearing them apart. Kopris is a ruthlessly efficient interrogator, knowing just how to hurt you for maximum pain and minimal risk of death. And in the off chance he does go to far and you start slipping away, he can bring you back from death's door. Anyone in the hands of Kopris will soon either tell him what the company needs to know, or break.

Those that survive the SIU training become brutally efficient soldiers, and Kopris is no exception. He's a skilled marksman with his rifle and SMG, and a powerful melee combatant. His biotic powers only serve to make him even more potent soldier, trained to his fullest potential by the Hegemony. While his biotic powers are fairly average his control over what powers he does have is strong and he knows how to use them to the fullest of their abilities.

After more than a decade in the Special Interventions Unit and in the Batarian External Forces, waging a war that the Hegemony never could have won, Kopris is skilled in asymmetrical warfare. Assassinations, sabotage, ambushes, hit and run tactics, intimidation tactics, Kopris has participated in and is skilled in all types necessary to fight against a stronger foe.

Kopris is a very talented baker Can...can.. he make cupcakes?, specifically desserts, though this is a skill he doesn't brag about or make publicly known. A skill hard earned from months of trying to woo the woman who would become his wife over and years of practicing to appease her sweet tooth and the sweet tooth of their son, Kopris can craft some surprisingly delicious desserts. Always up for a challenge, he knows at least one recipe from other races as well and can bake them confidently. He doesn't know for certain how good those are, as he obviously has had no third party taste testers of things like human brownies, but he thinks they taste good enough. He often waits til everyone on the ship is asleep or otherwise occupied and sneaks into the kitchen to bake, singing a soft song under his breath as he does so. It reminds him of a time before the Hegemony withdrew from the Citadel, when everything was good and he was happy.

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

---

M-15 Vindicator (Incendiary Rounds, Assault Rifle Stability Damper) - A weapon he picked off of a dead Blue Suns mercenary, the M-15 strikes the perfect balance between power and accuracy for Kopris. With it he is capable of engaging enemies at range with lethal precision, allowing him to decide when and if he wants to engage them in closer combat and not being forced to rush in like so many other Vanguards he sees.

Blood Pack Punisher (SMG Ultralight Materials, Chemical Rounds) - Picked off of a dead Vorcha, the Punisher is Kopris' go too weapon when he does decide to engage in close quarters. It's designed be wielded in one hand, allowing him to use his other hand for his biotics in combat or to pull a wounded teammate away, and packs enough punch to bring enemies down or keep them away.

Heavy Skirmisher Armor- The only thing Kopris kept from his military issued gear, this armor has gotten him through more battles and operations than he can remember. Rugged and dependable, it is perhaps the only thing that Batarian State Arms has made that isn't overprice garbage. Kopris goes to great lengths to keep it in tip top shape and effectiveness.

Two Omni-tools with Enforcer Gauntlets- When enemies are within melee range, these are Kopris' best friends. encasing his fists in spiked omni-gauntlets, Kopris uses these to their fullest ability whenever the opportunity presents itself. They are effective intimidation tools, as most people tend to hesitate when they see two spike gauntlets waiting to crash into their face. Outside of combat, Kopris uses his omni-tool to surf the extranet or as tools in a pinch.

White marble- Kopris' first eye replacement, symbolizing that his honorable sacrifice would not doom his soul, this pure white marble has the scripture of the Pillars of Strength written on it. Anyone who knows Batarian culture and the Pillars of Strength will recognize it and its significance. Kopris keeps it around mostly out of the feeling that it would be blasphemous to throw it away, and it can be often seen sitting on one of his shelves. <- Why did he replace it with the black one?

Operating Gear- Tired of never having all of tools he would need when moving from mercenary job to mercenary job, if he had any tools at all, Kopris finally saved up enough credits to buy all the surgery and general medical gear he felt he would need to properly do his job, and stores them in a decently sized brief case that is in the Medbay. Opening said brief case reveals a confusing array of gleaming steel equipment, but Kopris knows where everything is and its purpose. He takes even better care of this equipment than he does his armor.

Collection of Omni-Monster cards- A guilty pleasure of Kopris', he keeps his prized collection of Omni-Monster cards in a binder, with each card having its own sealed liner to further protect it. He finds the monsters designs and the strategy in building teams of them to battle incredibly interesting and almost addictive. It is perhaps the only good thing to come from Kopris leaving the Hegemony system, and he greatly enjoys collecting them.

Box of Cigars and matches: Kopris usually has at least once box of cigars on his person with a box of matches for whenever he needs a smoke. He reluctantly shares if anyone asks.

Personal collection of Liquor: While no longer a raging alcoholic, Kopris still enjoys a drink to relax after long days of fighting or operating. His personal box contains several bottles of Batarian Ale, a bottle of Batarian Shard Wine, a bottle of Asari Honey Mead, a bottle of Akantha, and a bottle of Ryncol. Kopris has never actually drank the Ryncol. He keeps it on hand for if he runs out of medical antiseptics and there's an emergency.

"It'll clean anything it touches. Inside and out."

Picture of Dal'ran and Dalea: The last picture Kopris took with his family. It depicts is wife, him, and their four year old son right before Kopris' departure for basic training. One of Kopris' most prized possessions, it goes with him everywhere.

Sirta Foundation Medical Scanner, built into his helmet- With no proper equipment to actually do scans to see if his patients have any broken bones, lacerated organs, or where any bullets may have stopped inside of them, Kopris needed something that could functionally double as several different types of complex medical equipment. Enter Sirta Foundation, medical technology extraordinaire. With their scanner, Kopris is able to figure out what is wrong and what needs to be done as fast as possible. It cost him a pretty penny, but the lives it has saved are well worth the credits spent.

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

---

-Lash

-Biotic Focus

-Backlash

-Ballistic Blades

<sub>PSYCH PROFILE

T R A I T S</sub>

---

Positive: Focused, Intelligent, Loyal.

Negative: Pessimistic, Bitter, Surly.

_{V I C E S}

---

Brawling: Kopris actively seeks out fights when on downtime between missions. He's not stupid or aggressive enough to pick fights with teammates or on the job, but when the ship is docked and they're not looking for a job, if he's not in the Medbay he's out on the streets, looking for a fight. If a port has a fighting scene, be it legal or otherwise, Kopris will find it. It's something he picked up after deserting his unit, a way to vent his fury. Soon it became a habit, a way of punishing. Punishing who, he's no longer certain. It could be himself for failing his family. It could be whomever is in front of him for happening to be apart of the galaxy that ruined everything.

Smoking: Kopris picked up a smoking addiction while serving in the SIU. He's almost constantly found with a cigar in his mouth. It helped calm his nerves, in the beginning, and now its simply another habit that keeps him going. Logically, as a medical professional (for he certainly isn't a doctor anymore), he knows that at best the habit is slowly weakening his body to the point where it might cost him his life in a battle. He just can't seem to bring himself to care about that.

Sweet tooth: A weakness he picked up from his late wife and child, Kopris lacks the self-control to resist the allure of desserts, candies, or anything sweet. He always has a pocket full of sweet candies he can snack on, and a sure way to get him to do what you want (within reason) is to offer him a dessert or candy in return. When out and about, he always returns with more sweets to stash away in either his pocket or his quarters.

Omni-Monsters: A collectible card game with fantastical creatures based off of practically anything in the universe that has hooked Kopris completely. He loves the designs of almost every single creature, and is intrigued by the strategy behind building teams that cover each other's weaknesses and build upon each other's strengths. The fact that you can scan your cards with your omni-tool and battle other players from around the universe is only a bonus. Whenever he sees a store selling the Omni-Monster card packs, he always buys at least two to increase his collection. I love this

_{H A U N T}

---

Kopris can almost always be found in the Achilles' Medbay, prepping for the next time it might be needed, taking stock of supplies, drinking, cleaning his equipment (both in the medbay and for combat), patching himself up from brawling, or simply relaxing and surfing the extranet on his omni-tool.

The Medbay itself is dishearteningly small. If anyone was looking for the reassuring gleam of high-tech surgery equipment and a large room for whenever they need it, they were disappointed. There's a table for operations, cabinets and dressers along the walls for medical supplies and equipment, and not much else. Upon first seeing it, Kopris only gave a disdainful snort. "Good thing I brought my own supplies." Kopris keeps the entire area clean and gleaming, ready for whenever someone gets wounded.

_{D R I V E}

---

Once a man driven by the needs of his family, Kopris is now driven by both spite and the knowledge that his wife and child would almost certainly hate him even more if he gave up and died just to be with them. He's survived too much to just lay down and die now, and he's sure that if he does he'll be giving some cosmic being, some unknown enemy, or some human who would find his corpse the satisfaction of his death and he refuses to give anyone that. So Kopris slogs on, clinging to life purely because his death would make someone happy and certain that he needs to do better with what life he has left, to make his family proud in the afterlife.

This...This is a very good sheet! Like hot damn! It made me feel things! Honestly I had trouble finding things to pick apart from it! I have a few questions and comments peppered about but really you don't need to answer those. They are kinda just there to maybe help you think of things you didn't think of at the time or answer some questions that I still had after reading. Over all though you did a very good job! Much impressed!

---

@Lauder

Hann'Ceedda nar Jalazi

_{Hann'Ceedda nar Jalazi
⟁ 24 ⟁ Female ⟁ Quarian ⟁Infiltrator}

"I like being away from all the action. It allows me to think it's all a game."

---

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

Hann’Ceedda is not an incredibly tall individual standing at just about 5’5” and there is little more she has to despise about herself, other than the standard quarian immune system. Her environmental suit has a predominately light gray coloration patterned with a slightly darker variation of gray and a white which resembles a digital camouflage. The main body of her suit is black with a dark grey elongated hexagonal patterned going all the way down and around the proper body suit. However, her environmental suit has a distinguishable change in that the light on the filter of her mask is not on, never has been and never will be, better for hiding that way.

Through her mask can be seen two glowing eyes and while her facial features are as hidden as any other quarians, Hann’Ceedda’s face can be described as a fairly beautiful young woman. Her lips may not be as full as another woman but her face is heart-shaped and her eyes are a bit narrower than most. Hann’Ceedda has soft cheekbones and there is no blemish or imperfection that can be caused by fights due to the simple fact that it has not felt anything outside of her helmet. The hair under her helmet can be described as a blackened and short cut, barely going past her chin and her bangs neatly kept away from her eyes as to not obstruct anything she might be viewing.

Moving onto her body, it is lithe and combined with her short stature makes her a fairly decent choice for getting into smaller places and hiding. Hann’Ceedda is toned from years of exercise and her thin body mostly comprises of muscle as she takes great care of her form.

---

_{B A C K G R O U N D}

Hann’Ceedda was born in the year 2155 CE aboard the ship known simply as the Jalazi, a small transport ship that was actually outside of the Migrant Fleet. Her parents were exiles from the Migrant Fleet as her mother, Mehi’Wiss Vas Rica, was found to be a traitor after a tragic mistake when she nearly compromised her ship’s defense systems by introducing a VI to optimize those defense systems instead had a glitch that nearly broadcasted the system and its weaknesses across space, but it was caught in time when one of the ship's council members managed to isolate the VI when Mehi’Wiss notified him. This, however, did not go over well with the other council members.

Upon her exile, Hann’Ceedda’s father, Roto’Ceedda Vas Rica, took the exile to stay with the one he had loved. The couple was gifted a small ship, the Jalazi, and rations to live out their lives in the galaxy. <-- Who gifted them the ship? Even a small ship is a valuable resource in the Fleet since they are like literally what their entire life revolves. So it seems a little weird from them to just be like here take this ship! Now if they stole the ship that would be another story.... around When Hann’Ceedda was born Mehi’Wiss contracted an illness and shortly died a few weeks after, leaving Roto’Ceedda to be a single father. <-- I mean, I get that he took the exile to fellow his lover... but like why couldn't he just come back? He honestly didn't do anything wrong. This meant that Hann’Ceedda grew up with very limited interactions with members of her own species outside of her father. Generally how was her relationship with her father. Obviously it is good enough for her to go hunt him down and rescue him later, but during the years how were they? Because there was some tension there with the gun training and such. However, the two made the most of their lives and from a young age, Roto’Ceedda instilled the same niche traits of programming that her mother had. Though Roto was never able to truly compare to Mehi’Wiss’s abilities, he managed to spark Hann’Ceedda’s interest.

The two continued to live as nomads, though they had become traders traderes of what? of some degree as they had to learn the basics of the Alliance’s economy rather quickly in order to make a living. This was their life up until 2164 CE when Roto took up living as an engineer for a krogan mercenary group, fixing their weapons and armor in exchange for a small portion of their money whenever they accepted a job. Life for Hann was hard in this krogan group how was it hard? cause the krogan seemed to like her enough to teach her how to shoot. That suggests that they liked her., though Roto attempted to limit the interaction between his daughter and the group as a whole.Was he always a mother hen or did not happen after his wife died? If there was one thing that she had learned from them, it was to not show weakness, especially in front of a krogan. And how did she learn that?

This was Roto and Hann’s life for roughly five years until Hann was caught being taught how to shoot weapons at the age of fourteen. Though the krogans had begun to teach Hann when she was eleven behind Roto’s back whenever he got busy with work.Who started it? Was it like the Krogan's going you need to know how to use a gun you are already 11 or was it 11 year old Hann going "I wanna learn to shoot!"? Because that kinda changes the context here a lot The event caused a rather large rift between Roto and the Krogans, and it left a bad taste in Hann’s mouth, though she never stopped learning how to properly use weapons even despite her father’s orders. <-- Why didn't her father want her to learn how to shoot. It is a dangerous galaxy? Was it like a moral reason? Eventually, it all boiled over in a one-sided fistfight between Roto and one of the mercenaries that was going over the basic practice of sniper usage with Hann. <-- Usually fistfights with angry Krogan's ends up with the other party dead? How did Roto end up not dead? Did Hann stop it somehow?

While no one died, Roto did take Hann and abandon the Krogan. In defeat, Roto took Hann to the Flotilla in a bid to keep Hann away from harm. It was a day of sadness as while the Migrant Fleet accepted Hann into their ranks, they refused Hann I think you mean Roto? still given he had become an exile with Mehi. Hann has yet to hear from her father since that day, though she does attempt to contact him through a myriad of ways that have failed. Additionally, life with her own species proved difficult to acclimate to as she had become used to the harsh, aggressive nature of the krogans. Though among her kind, Hann was able to learn what her mother had been able to do and she followed in those footsteps, practicing her abilities and honing them so that she may understand code and files, as well as her mother, had.

When Hann had turned seventeen, only being with the migrant fleet for almost two years, she opted to start on her Pilgrimage so that she may be considered an adult by her people. However, when she left the fleet, she immediately put all the skills she had learned to re-establish a connection with an old krogan friend, Wakmor. <-- Was he part of the old merc group? Or just somebody else the family knew? Hann used him to attempt to find out where her father’s trail had gone, though Wakmor proved little help.

For over a year, Hann attempted to find the trail of her father, traveling to any system that she remembered from her youth and offering services in retrieving data to make enough credits to continue traveling and surviving.

In 2173 CE, Hann found a clue of her father’s whereabouts which pointed her to Omega, the hive of scum and villainy itself. Knowing that it may be a suicide run for her, she turned to a group that she had known for a long time, the Damned Ashes, the krogan mercenary group. Why did she go to them even though they had such a bad relationship with her father? Was it a devil you know situation? Hann contacted them under a false name, merely known as Splinter, as to not stir up any past aggression they may have still bared towards her father. <-- Did she remain undercover with them the entire time or did they eventually find her out? Or did she tell them? With all the money she had accumulated and any services she could have offered them, Hann had managed to get her old friends to aid her aboard Omega.

When they had reached Omega, the group immediately ran into resistance from the local gangs Why? Like unless they were kicking down doors and pointing guns at everyone screaming where her dad was... though Hann did her best to mediate any conflict to avoid turning a misunderstanding into an all-out gang war. It took a few days, but Hann did manage to get into contact with someone who had come into contact with Roto and as it turned out, he was still in Omega. Who was that contact? I like names not someones. The downside was that he was being held by a gang who had a brilliant idea to try and ransom him back to the Migrant Fleet, whom they had failed to come into contact with.

Having no money, Hann knew she would never be able to afford whatever ridiculous prices the gang attempted to ask from the Flotilla. However, she did have a group of Krogan that were eager for a fight. Hann led the Krogan against the gang, initiating a fierce battle at the gang’s headquarters in the Gozu district. Eventually, Hann and the krogans managed to breach the headquarters, moving through tight quarters and slaughtering those who opposed them. It was in this attack that Hann found that she did not enjoy the act of killing, but she knew that she had to if she wanted to see her father again. What was Hann's role during the assualt or did she just sit back and let the krogans do all the work?

Hann did manage to come across her father, but the state she found him in was one that made Hann cry more than she ever had before. Roto was chained, malnourished, sick, and atrophied to the point where he was hardly recognizable without his suit. It was the last time Hann would share any words with her father, being told that she should live to find life wherever she wanted so long as she does not have to struggle. That was the life that Roto wanted for Hann, and after those words, Hann took it upon herself to put her father out of his misery, that being his final request and knowing that he would not survive no matter how much Hann tried to help him.

After that event, Hann paid off her debt to the Damned Ashed for three years as a data broker and as an assassin Did they force her to become an assassin? Because you already established that she doesn't like killing... And beinga data broker could be more then enough to a pay a debt off. She was twenty-one when she had finally gotten rid of her debt, her hands being riddled in blood and death by the time she was able to call herself free. Did this change her all as a person It was in this freedom that she considered returning to the Migrant Fleet to fulfill her pilgrimage, but knowing that she would not belong <--- because of the assassining? Or something else?, abstained from the idea.

Hann would go onto to reclaim the Jalazi <-- It got lost? How? And who did she reclaim it from? Did she do it violently? There is a story here and you should tell it. , living as her people had and becoming a nomad for two more years as she processed all the things she had done and continued to grieve for her father. It was a time for her to clear her mind and decide on what she wanted to do with her life now that she could do whatever she wanted. Eventually, she grew tired of the nomadic life and began to look back into her old work as a mercenary, though she did not plan to return to the predominantly Krogan group. There were too many memories for her to have to face that she would rather not.

After some looking around and selling the Jalazi for some cushion money, she found work with the crew of the Achilles, offering her services as a sniper But why a sniper though? Is there anything that particularly drove her towards sniping? She doesn't like killing so why did so insist on killing more people? Lots of crews probably just need a hacker. and hacker. It is merely time that will tell whether she will drift away as she did from the other groups.

---

_{S K I L L S}

"Keelah, how many passwords does a security system need?!"

Hann’Ceedda, first and foremost, is someone who can bring a lot of electronics expertise to the metaphorical table, being about to find the inner workings of a VI and pull the strings of one given enough time and effort. In a pinch, she can maintain some calm and focus on hacking so long as she is not the one being directly shot at. That said, she is proficient in the art of getting into security systems, she can pull vital information, and doing just about anything she can with her Omni-Tool.

Outside of the realm of hacking, Hann’Ceedda knows her way around a ship, not an expert on everything, but she knows how to repair systems if they are in dire need of them and get any system to be functional. She is a decent repairman, doing what she can to make sure nothing is absurdly broken or inoperable. However, being no expert, she cannot make any modifications, or calibrations, to systems without further outside help.

Additionally, Hann’Ceedda is a woman who knows her way around a sniper, having been taught from a relatively young age makes her highly trained in the weapon. But there were long periods when she presumably wasn't training with it like when she was with the fleet or just with her father? Did she train in secret during this times? She is known to be on mark most of the time, though being under fire and other stressful factors have been known to hamper her accuracy. Despite this, Hann is able to fire at exceptionally long ranges, leading shots, and other factors from a vantage point with ease while she is focused on her target. This skill, to a lesser extent, goes to her pistols as well, though it's more of a flare as a sort of quick-draw more than any true skill, at least she can still shoot it.

---

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

Quarian Envirosuit

_{Hann’s Envirosuit is practically a second skin for her, as it is for all Quarians, while it is not armored like the marines of the Migrant Fleet, it does protect her from most environmental threats. The suit also comes with a VI which monitors her health and well being, but also designed to give her a heads-up display on enemies and can zoom in along with her sniper.}

Rosenkov M-97 Viper

_{The M-97 Viper, developed by Rosenkov Materials, is perhaps one of the more odd choice for a sniper given the lower damage per shot. However, this lower damage is offset by its effectiveness against armored targets, it is also one of the only snipers that is also effective against shields and biotic barriers. The weapon is also semi-automatic, allowing for a quicker follow-up shot rather than needing to be reloaded after a single shot like the M-92 Viper. As an addition to the weapon, the scope can display to Hann’s visor so that she may not have to constantly put the scope up to her visor in an awkward fashion.}

Elanus Risk Control M-3 Predator

_{A relatively inexpensive pistol, the M-3 Predator is a rapid-fire weapon that is rather ineffective against shields and biotic barriers. Yet, it proves to be a reliable side-arm when in a pinch and Hann does not seek to use it too often. So long as she shoots first.}

Sirta Foundation Chameleon Tools Omni-Tool

_{The Chameleon Tool was purchased by Hann shortly before joining the Achilles, perhaps out of a thematic choice than a practical one. Though, the Omni-Tool is still capable of allowing Hann to do what she does best, giving her a way to get into things that others would rather not.}

---

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

• Decryption
• Sabotage
• Tactical Cloak
• Assassination

---

<sub>PSYCH PROFILE

T R A I T S</sub>

Positive

• Focused
• Passionate
• Precise
  
  Negative
• Detached
• Quarrelsome
• Dishonest

---

_{V I C E S}

Cleaning

_{Hann has developed a habit to clean virtually anything, namely her guns or quarters, but this has been known to extend to hallways and other areas. When she gets into cleaning, there is very little that will stop her save for being called for a mission or having some other pressing matters that require her immediate attention. She developed this habit, not simply from being a Quarian, but because it provides her a means to focus on something other than her past, mainly her father and her people. For her, an escape is a means to hide from the things she does not want to face, even if that would mean lining up a bunch of sticks in an order of size.}

Old Music

_{Hann is a fan of the classics and she loves to listen to them, while this would mainly be human music from the late 1900s and early 2000s, it does extend to other cultures as well. She has a strange fixation to that old human music to the point where she will listen to it while even on missions. When she is posted up in a vantage point, Hann will likely have some old music like “Southern NIghts” or, perhaps one of her favorite songs, “Mr. Blue Sky”. This has been developed through her time of surfing the Extranet, and she uses it as a means to desensitize herself from killing others. The music allows her to treat it more as a game than a true problem of morality.}

---

_{H A U N T}

The Shuttle Bay

<sub>Hann gravitated towards the shuttle bay, having an area that she tends to keep thoroughly sanitized and organized beyond what someone would actively call normal. In this little bubble, she tends to shoo people off with their contaminants and if they wish to talk to her they can wait outside of a specific line. At least she had the courtesy of putting some basic chairs in a substantially smaller area which is so aptly named the ‘Waiting Area”.

The original space was where tool storage was, but that had since been moved to accommodate herself. Now the three-walled area has been converted to resemble a small, confined bedroom with a sleeping bag placed on the floor and an organized assortment of cleaning supplies, books, and pictures of her father and mother. Additionally, there is a music player from which she will be streaming music on a never-ending basis, rather than constantly playing it within her helmet.</sub>

_{D R I V E}

After finding and executing her father, there was little drive that Hann had for going on and she had fallen into a depression while she worked from the Krogan. When she had reunited with the Jalazi one last time, Hann decided to live by her father’s words and find a life to live without any struggle. The life she dreams of is a life where she can finally retire to a planet and do absolutely nothing for the rest for her life; no space travel, no data running, no mercenary work. For that, she needs enough money to support being able to do absolutely nothing for a good long while so that she could have a life to ignore anyone who would have bothered her and be free of the intergalactic struggles that kept her in the mercenary life.

After that, she doesn’t know what she would. Probably, nothing.

Alright this a solid concept but as you can see I also ended up making a fair bit of comments! That really isn't an issue per say, it just means that I had a lot of comments or suggestions. The framework is there and now you just need to expand on it more. Because right now you have done a very good job at getting us from Point A to Point B, but now I want to see those extra flourishes added. Really focus in on characterization and highlighting moments that let us see Hann as a person. Because right now it feels very clinical and while giving us a pretty good idea of her history, I wanna know more about Hann as a person and how this history effected her beyond her being kind of a non-active party in events happening to her half the time. Did these events change her? Or did they make her resolve stronger? Was that her taking the initiative to learn how to shoot was that something forced upon her? I hope a lot of my questions can point you in the right direction. But don't worry because right now you have a very solid concept and starting point! Now you just gotta finish fleshing the product out!

---

@DJAtomika

Karmm Sol

K A R M M "S U L L Y" S O L

_{⟁ 37 Y'know I don't think we've really seen any "young" Krogan really beyond Grunt have we? ⟁ Male ⟁ Krogan ⟁ Engineer}

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

---

As krogans go, Sol's up there with being both intimidating and scary at one go; Sol stands 8' 4" tall and weighs roughly 375 pounds, making him a giant bruiser of a krogan. The main colouring of his plating and hump is a faded shade of pale blue with several equally faded orange stripes in some sort of pattern across his hump. There is a pale blue stripe diagonally across his face, from top right to bottom left, as if someone painted his face blue and he just left it that way. His eyes are a light yellow-brown, like most krogan, and there are several light scars across his plating as well; bullet holes that have healed over, scrapes and slashes and cuts that criss cross his chest, face and arms. His face is almost in a permanent weary scowl, one frown away from an actual grimace or growl.

Sol carries himself in a neutral manner, despite his size, not betraying aggression or any sort of negative behaviour unless warranted. His armour is often accented by a custom made gear rig and harness, from which hang several different types of tools, big and small, used to repair anything from FTL capable ships to cleaning robots. His armour's gloves are also often covered by a thicker pair of fireproof work gloves, but he leaves them off and clipped to his harness when he's not using them.

_{B A C K G R O U N D}

---

Sol, better known as Sully among the shipwrights and mechanics of Omega, is an old soul. Hailing from Tuchanka, Sol spent two centuries on the krogan homeworld, his hands blackened and slick with engine grease and soot. His clan, Karmm, were and still are, machinists and mechanics, serving the bigger, wealthier clans who own the huge land trucks that trundle across the planet's surface, along with fixing any incoming or outgoing ships in Tuchanka's only space port. The Karmm clan served and continue to serve to this day, being the quiet mechanics working behind the scenes to ensure everything always runs on time.. Sol spent his years on his home world honing his talents in fixing things and getting his hands dirty. The young krogan learned how to defend himself early on, as all krogan do, and also learned the many ways that he could use his tools to maim and kill. It's not really that important but maybe a paragraph on his family life might help? I know you said you don't really feel comfortable with Krogan lore, but you don't really need lore to talk about family dynamics. Where they supportive? Not so supportive? What did they do? Where they the one's that taught him? Does he still keep in contact with them to today? You know things like that. It will help give a better picture of where he is comming from

But life on Tuchanka grew boring rather rapidly for young Sol. Already an expert at fixing pretty much every land vehicle the krogan could build and field, Sol yearned to see more. For years, he'd heard of shuttles and other passenger craft landing on Tuchanka, bringing delegates from the Alliance, or mercenaries from off-world looking for a tough krogan to hire. Over the course of a few months, Sol made plans. He learned the schedule for a particular shuttle that always brought mercenary captains looking for fresh hires from a faraway station called Omega, packed his things, paid the entry fee in credits and booked a seat on his very first space voyage. "Did he do work for the mercernary captain when he got there? Because right now you make it seem like they literally were just ferrying him across the galaxy for no charge."

That was how Sol began his journey across the stars. The shuttle brought him first to Omega, where he would begin selling his work by the hour, fixing shuttles and repairing droids for easy credits. <-- How did he feel about going from a place like Tuchanka to a place like Omega? Because it is certainly something of a culture shock. Sometimes his employers would ask him to hold a big gun and look menacing while they conducted "business", which earned him a hefty paycheck that went towards paying rent and buying new tools to replace his old ones. Always learning, always improving, Sol went on the hunt for bigger, more exotic things to fix. He would often spend his spare credits buying junked vehicles to see if he could restore them, practicing and honing his craft on other vessels that weren't just the same giant krogan trucks day after day after day. The krogan gained a reputation from his near-constant status of being in the station's docking bays, offering his repair services to any and all pilots and captains on Omega. Over the years, his skills grew and soon he became one of the more prominent mechanics of the Omega docks, gaining a small following of loyal customers who always brought him new ships or hover vehicles to fix.

But it was through these years that Sol also learned how to fix other things, for it wasn't always machines that people brought to him for fixing. Word came through the grapevine that Sol was a dab hand at repairing just about anything, so it wasn't long when a gun landed on his work bench. So would begin his slow descent into the dark underbelly of Omega, but he didn't realise it was going to be as dark as he knew it to be. The only thing Sol saw was another challenge waiting to be conquered. He didn't let his first few failures bog him down; anyone that dared threaten him often backed down because of his sheer size and bulk. Soon he had repaired his first gun, and it wouldn't be the last. Orders came in from all over the station; small time bounty hunters looking to get a rifle tuned, smugglers wanting an engine replacement on their ship, or even bigger mercenary companies looking to calibrate new weapons for their stock. I like this! It seems like a very natural progression from where he started from! Sol, now with a more human nickname of "Sully", was a mainstay of the Omega marketplace as a repairman and gunsmith. His little stall always saw a healthy amount of business, and soon he had more than enough credits rolling in to justify bigger purchases, like an actual set of guns for himself now that he was drawing attention, both the right and wrong kind, but mostly to deter any would-be scam artists that tried to rip him off of a job. He also managed to pay for a custom-made set of armour, specifically for his build, and to mount a harness on top of to hold all his various tools and gadgets.

It was during this heyday that he met his first contractor. Someone who needed his skills on the regular and would pay him handsomely to just show up and act tough. So he did. He took his guns, went with this man, a human ex-Alliance soldier who had put a crew together to fence some stolen merchandise to an interested party, and stood there and attempted to look tough. Which went swimmingly well, for a deal made on Omega. The man, Nicholas Cole, roped Sol into his crew as big dumb muscle, although that didn't stop the krogan from showing off his actual skills in fixing just about any machine the other mercenaries threw at him. The crew ran several low-key missions, mostly hunting bounties throughout Omega and using the credits to restock on supplies, food and other necessities. It was through these experiences that Sol learned to defend himself, training himself in the use of what firearms he'd bought to make sure he wasn't being a burden on the team. He also learned how to fix drones through the team, particularly the other engineer on the team a turian soldier who was also a whiz at electronics and programming, who taught him how to set up his own drone from a shell. Over the next few weeks, Sol constructed his own drone from the same shell he'd started out with, naming it Kezzik after the turian that had taught him. He outfitted it with tools to help him with his mechanic work and a small SMG for self defense.

Sol spent close to a year working with Cole and his team, getting to know them individually and hanging out with them during their free time. It was a different experience, something he'd not felt before. Back on Tuchanka, work teams were formed out of sheer necessity and members never socialised or got to know each other.Though I would imagine most work teams were from the same clan? So maybe they did know one another? Here? It was different. Cole, Kezzik and the others were almost like family in their bond. Over drinks, Cole told Sol that they'd been a small-time mercenary outfit for just about two years, operating out of Omega but stuck within the Terminus systems because they had no money to fix their ship's mass effect drive. With Sol's help, they'd managed to earn a sizable portion for themselves, enough to maybe fund a replacement drive or to fix the problems with it. And that struck Sol. He offered to fix the drive for them, an offer which Cole initially waved off with a nervous laugh. Since when was a krogan able to fix a mass effect drive? Especially on a vessel of human make. The krogan merely shrugged and left it at that, but the human's curiosity got the better of him. Sol spent a week sequestered within the ship's engineering bay, and when the week was over, he'd fixed their drive with spare parts and some new ones that he had to buy from the Omega market. Cole was flabbergasted, but Sol merely answered his questions with a smug smile and a shrug of his shoulders.

And like all things, the partnership was not meant to last. Once their mass effect drive was fixed, the crew spent another week on Omega before they bid Sol farewell as they left the station for greater ventures. <--They just saw him fix a mass effect drive... why didn't they take him with them? Like that just seems dumb. Not being able to leave stung, even for a krogan, but work was work. The credits he'd earned through the contract were enticing...very enticing indeed. Enough to get him a new set of tools and then some. But...something was missing. After their partnership had ended, Sol took a few days off work to ponder about that feeling. It was a strange emptiness that haunted him during his time off, but as soon as he went back to work, he found out what that feeling was: a taste of adventure and of togetherness. Cole and his crew had shown him what it was like to work with like-minded people. Not like on Tuchanka where teamwork was born out of necessity, but a true team that worked together and played together simply because they could. Almost like family. And working on Omega just didn't have that same thrill for him. Sol realised that, in order to truly scratch that itch, he'd have to get off Omega. To leave behind the business he'd so lovingly built up, trust his instincts, and go on a real adventure, not be stuck on some backwater space station for the rest of his life.

Sol began to make more plans. To leave Omega with a crew just like Cole's and see the galaxy proper. To that end, he kept up his repair work, but scoured the Omega intranet for job listings that would take him off-world. That was how he stumbled upon Nikolai Tsoi. An ex-Alliance soldier, just like Cole, but the difference being that Cole had a crew. Tsoi didn't. But Tsoi had a ship and he was looking for a crew. Sol took one look at the clunker, a turian patrol cruiser the likes of which he'd seen about once or twice before, and signed on the dotted line. He didn't have to move much, considering that his apartment was by the same docking bay that Tsoi had left his ship. With his belongings packed, Sol decided that a second chance to find fortune and adventure elsewhere laid in this man's hands. And he'd see about getting that ship fixed up, too.

_{S K I L L S}

---

Engineering and Mechanics
_{Sol is, first and foremost, an engineer. He has the technical know-how to fix almost all manner of ship and vehicle that comes into his shop, along with the finesse and steady hands that come with having years of experience handling delicate pieces of machinery. He isn't so experienced where he can instantly tell what problems a ship has as soon as it lands, but if you give him a few weeks with it, he'll gladly fix all of its problems. Same goes for any sort of land vehicle or even smaller things like air scrubbers or an omnigel dispenser. If Sol has the parts and the time, he'll fix anything within reason.}

Electronics and AI Programming
_{Another skill that Sol picked up on Omega, courtesy of Kezzik, was the fine art of electronics and programming. Even more fine, delicate machinery to play with. Soldering, wiring, circuit boards and microchips, programs, AI behaviour, voice commands and facial recognition, oh my. The year that Sol spent with Kezzik, working on drones and learning how to code their behaviour, you'd think that he was a salarian stuck in a krogan's body with how fast he picked it up. Sure, Sol's drone does have a few moments where it glitches out, but for the most part it works just as he made it. Of course, if there were someone that were even better at programming drones than an ex-navy turian, Sol would love to learn from them.}

Weapon Maintenance and Upkeep
_{The last skill that Sol had to pick up on Omega, because ships weren't the only things he fixed. Mercenaries and bounty hunters often came to him to get their weapons fixed or recalibrated, even though Sol never advertised himself as a weaponsmith. It was through this that he picked up some experience in meddling with guns. It didn't make him the best around, but he knew what parts went where and how to adjust things to make sure a weapon shot straight and functioned at 100%.}

Brute Strength
_{And of course, krogans are known for their blood rage and sheer strength, and Sol is no exception to this rule. He is big, strong and chunky when it comes down to it. Not fast or fancy, but if you need someone to bash down a thin wall with his shoulder, Sol's your krogan.}

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

---

Kassa Fabrications M-6 Carnifex
_{Sol's go to pistol. Everything else was too small for his hand and he needed something with an oomph to it. Something that screamed "mess with me and you're not walking away without a few extra holes". A Carnifex was the best choice. Sol managed to get his off the black market, in exchange for having to work on the dealer's hoverbike for two weeks. It's got a few scratches and dinks, but a pistol is a pistol and his Carnifex, so far, has not failed him.}

Kassa Fabrications M-12 Locust
_{At Cole's behest, Sol did get something slightly bigger for himself. The Locust was a sub-machine gun that fit his large hands and did an impressive job at keeping would-be dealbreakers off Cole's back during jobs.}

Jormungand Technology Hazard Armour
_{The very first, and so far only, suit of armour that Sol has. Bought when he was running off the first profits of his mechanic business, it was more for necessity to him. He needed something that could handle a tool harness and also that could reasonably soak up some bullets. The suit itself is a plain gunmetal grey, with light blue highlights, and is chipped and worn in places where he's scuffed elbows or taken ricochets from shots aimed at him. The helmet's visor also has a custom setting for macro zoom in the right lens, to aid Sol with fine, precise detailed work.}

Combat/Mechanic Drone - Kezzik
_{The drone that his former crewmate of the same name helped him build. Kezzik is a simple, barebones drone with both combat and utility functions. It is a slightly flattened sphere shape, with a small, compact SMG housed within. Three slender arms are tucked away in the bottom of the drone that are able to hold tools or devices that Sol needs for his work, and in the front is a simple camera and scanner duo that has simple facial/omni-tool recognition and scanning capabilities to help the krogan identify problems within the infrastructure of whatever he needs to fix.}

Elkoss Combine Cipher Omni-tool
_{Can't go wrong with an omni-tool. Elkoss Combine made theirs cheap but didn't skimp on quality. Sol uses his to perform more detailed analysis on anything he needs to repair, combining Kezzik's visual scanning capabilities with the omni-tool to pinpoint precisely where the problems are.}

Tool Kit
_{A simple fabric toolkit that hangs from Sol's belt. Contained within are a few wrenches of various sizes, screwdrivers, pliers, wire cutters and other assorted mechanic tools.}

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

---

• Overload
• Combat Drone
• AI Hacking
• Incinerate

PSYCH PROFILE
_{T R A I T S}

Positive

• Dedicated
• Loyal
• Fast Learner

Negative

• Aloof
• Blunt
• Gruff

_{V I C E S}

Gambling
_{Unfortunately for Sol, he has a bit of a risk-taking streak when it comes to credits, and games of dice or cards are often where he loses some of the money he earns as a mechanic. He knows not to "go big or go home" as the humans call it, but a few credits over a game of poker tempts him to spend better than food does. And never bet that Sol can eat something disgusting, that's just mixing both his vices together. Bad times for him all around.}

Food and Cheesy Holovid Soaps
_{And another unfortunate vice for Sol, he loves to eat. He knows never to let anything he eats get near to the things he works on, but one of the things he just has to do to relax or de-stress from a long day of work is to sprawl out on his bed and watch cheesy dramas broadcast on the holovid app on his datapad with a bowl of munchies on his stomach. Nothing appeals to him more than chowing down to relax.}

Fixing his Drone

<sub>This is what takes up most of Sol's free time. Fiddling with the innards of his drone. There's always something to improve on or a new feature to test in his drone, and SOL doesn't disguise the fact that Kezzik is his life's work and one of his few crowning joys of being an engineer. He takes much pride in it, even with the imperfections, and he spends much of his free time hunkered over it on his workbench, busy working on a new feature or trying to fix old problems that he's never figured out how to solve.

H A U N T</sub>

The Engineering Bay
<sub>The engineering bay is Sol's haunt. He's furnished it sparsely, with a few small shelves to keep his tools and his own workbench from Omega, on which he usually has Kezzik, with its guts and electronics stripped down and the krogan sitting over it, glowering at something through his helmet. A small weapon rack adorns one wall where his SMG and pistol are mounted, and the place is generally in a mess. An organised mess, he calls it. Things piled on tables and shelves haphazardly, but the krogan always knows where to get what he wants out of the clutter. A terminal sits on another bench, where the krogan keeps tabs on the ship's many systems, making sure nothing is wrong with the air scrubbers or artificial gravity.

In stark contrast to this, the engine room and mass effect drive bay that are attached to the engineering bay are spick and span. Mounted on walls within each room is a panel with tools on little hooks, and a data pad containing live readouts of the statistics and variables of both the engines and the drive. These help Sol make sure that the most important parts of the ship are running smoothly and without any deviance from norms. After all, a ship without engines isn't a ship, it's just a fancy hunk of metal with a rudder and wings.</sub>

_{D R I V E}

Finding a crew and an adventure worthy of tales to be told centuries later on Tuchanka, when he is old and grey. Is he ever home sick for Tuchanka? Or does he not regret leaving. Sol seeks that feeling of unity from being in a team, combined with the spark of adventure that enticed him ever since he met Nicholas Cole.

I think you were being harder on yourself then needed! I really like Sully a lot as a character, he's a very familiar character but very different at the same time and I think that is really really cool. I think the sheet would benefit from you going in depth a little bit more about his life on Tunchka before he left for Omega. Things like his family life or maybe a story about the first thing he repaired on his own or something. Something to give us a little bit more info on those formative years and give us a better idea of where he is coming from.

Beyond that I have a few questions peppered throughout that I feel that maybe answering or at least thinking about will help you along!

Oh and one final thing just for me would be to maybe throw some dates or at least when he x years old blank happened in there. Just so I have a better idea of the time frame of events!

But overall very good job! ^<^

Mass Effect: Renegade

@Monochromatic Rainbow
Yeah it's weird. They talk about it like it's a much bigger battle then it is but really it was pretty quick. It's not a you problem! It's a the game isn't really clear about it expect in like a few dialogues from the very beginning of ME-1 so not a lot of people remember them problem. lol

The ground teams had a much harder fight, but still managed to hold out for several hours. When reinforcements finally arrived, the enemy turned tail and fled in what vessels they had left.

That's a line from the ME wiki and when you talk to Presley about it in ME-1 he also describes it as a relatively short affair.

@Jarl Coolgruuf
Mhmm! I look forward to it and I wish you the best of luck!

Mass Effect: Renegade

Alright! Here is Batch#1! Batch#2 is already in the oven and will be out as soon as I'm able to finish it up! Once again I would like to thank all of y'all for your patience and cooperation as I try to handle all these applications!

---

@Heat

Drayak Vash

_{D r a y a k V a s h
⟁ 301 ⟁ ♂ ⟁ Krogan ⟁ Soldier}

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

---

Most often clad in armor, and armed to the teeth, Vash casts an imposing figure. He never leaves home unarmed, and always seems ready for a fight even when in the midst of a drunken haze. His eyes are a fierce golden shade, with focused irises like that of a ferocious predator. His head plates are a medium green, skin a muted brown. The right side of his face is scarred with multiple short cuts and burns, the markings a warrior bears. Another small healed cut sits on the left lower side of his jaw. A cocky smile often persists on his lips, and is often accompanied by a deep, hearty (frequently drunken) laugh. Depending on his mindset and which side of his allegiance you stand on, his smiles and laughter can either be soothing or terrifying.

A sturdy, physically powerful specimen, Vash stands 2.2 meters in height and weighs in at roughly 350 pounds. Like the others of his species he has a muscle bound, sturdy figure. He is in shape and immensely strong in regards to raw physicality. His armor is scratched and scarred, the paint scuffed in parts, but it is still in fine working condition. He refuses to get these markings fixed, seeing it as adding 'character' to his armor. On his right forearm he has a black tattoo of a krogan skull with a scar over the left eye. Its a tribute to his fallen brother, though he always keeps it covered.

_{B A C K G R O U N D}

---

Born on the harsh krogan homeworld of Tuchanka, he was brought into the world alongside a twin brother, Kriash. Their births were a cause of great celebration amongst clan Drayak. A single healthy child being born to the genophage stricken species was already a remarkable occurrence, but two in the same brood was another thing entirely. They were both given the traditional krogan rite of life, signifying they were healthy and strong enough to grow into proud warriors. The twins were inseparable in their childhoods, rarely not at each other's side. The krogan homeworld is an especially brutal place, nuclear hellfire has left the world nigh inhospitable to non-krogan. With no centralized government to speak of, it is an especially chaotic place to live. Childhood was relatively calm for the twins, Vash and his brother were raised almost exclusively by their mother. Fertile krogan women were cherished within society, treated as prizes of war.

Upon reaching adulthood Vash and Kriash were put through the rites of passage, signifying they were their own man. Both brothers remained on Tuchanka and thrust into important positions within clan Drayak. <--What kind of positions? Their father Drayak Gax was an esteemed and proud warlord, who led frequent raids of neighboring clans. Noted for his brutality and raw skill on the battlefield, he took it upon himself to raise his sons as he saw fit. <- Before you said they were almost exclusively raised by their mother and now you are saying they are raised by their father? Trained might be the better word here? Honestly it's fine just the wording confused me for a sec It was the same way he was brought up, harshly. Both of the brothers were put through intense and constant training, Gax molding them into the best damn warriors he could. Any failures were met with immediate berating from their father, demanding they did better. Needless to say neither Vash or Kriash had much love for their father. Still, his rough methods were a success as both young krogan would become deadly combatants on the battlefields the clan fought in. Vash still able to recall the first kill he made. <- What was that kill? I feel especially for a Krogan stuff like that is important information.

They each spent their first one hundred years on Tuchanka, but their dreams laid beyond their barren homeworld. The stars called out to them both. They'd heard tales of strong krogan fighting across awe inspiring worlds, becoming some of the finest warriors the galaxy had ever seen. Together the twins made a pact, that they would not die on their volatile homeworld, to end up just another set of forgotten corpse vanishing into the sands. That together they would venture through the stars and make something of themselves. Achieve a life of success, wealth and victory they both desired. They piled what they could together and purchased a spaceship, leaving the planet behind. Krogans who had returned to Tuchanka spoke of a opportunity filled part of the galaxy where mercenary work aplenty could be found, the Terminus systems. Arriving on Omega was a stunning experience for both brothers, the slew of alien races, the bustling streets and endless stream of denizens, many of which were fellow krogan. The duo as they always had done stuck together, seeking to find work in the only field they truly knew, warfare.

They took a variety of jobs, the most common being bodyguarding and mercenary work. Any wealthy person unlucky to find themselves in Terminus space would happily take two imposing krogan as bodyguards. Vash had been fighting on his homeworld for decades, savagely killing his own people for decades. It was a natural transition for both him and his brother to this occupation. There was always a need for soldiers for hire in the Terminus systems. The money was good, and the excitement was constant. They were not without their drawbacks or failures though, such as some nasty run ins with the Blue Suns and Eclipse. Missions which inadvertently ended with them conflicting with these more powerful groups. The Blood Pack also tried several times to recruit both brothers, but were turned down each time. As targets were painted on their backs the duo decided to formally create their own crew of mercenary warriors.

The krogan had enough contacts to draw in some hungry freelancers as well as outcasts from bigger mercenary groups. With an established, well fortified base on Omega constructed, Drayak's Fist was born. Recruits were put through rigorous training much like the brothers were by their father many years before. Promising a fair dividend of 'profits', Vash and Kriash found more success and opportunity running their own band than they ever did as an exclusive duo. The credits rolled in more than before, as did the infamy. Vash showed a fierce prowess in battle, a fierce presence that mowed down any who stood in his way. Kriash was damn good as well, albeit even more brutal and ruthless. Drayak's Fist frequently did pirate work, raiding ships and outposts for whatever they could loot, kidnapping and ransoming off any people they captured. As well as doing mercenary work for wealthy companies with interests in the Terminus systems.

While still smaller than the Blue Suns, Eclipse and Blood Pack, conflicts were common. One advantage of Drayak's Fist being a group was that they could move much more inconspicuously through the Terminus systems. The trio of the largest mercenary companies were common raiding targets for them. Each one had bases scattered across worlds in the system. Easy targets for rapid 'hit and run' operations. < - My question is why tho? Like if they were making such a killing off of being pirates and mercs, why poke the sleeping giant? What do they get from it? Did they think they were better? Retribution was expected, so the two krogan invested credits into purchasing multiple penthouses across Omega. Small buildings in which they would rotate between staying in as well as housing loot, supplies, weaponry and other items. Things were going smoothly for Vash, his brother and their 'associates'. For decades they flourished, raking in money, power and infamy across the Terminus systems. <- There success seems a little bit unbelievable on my end. They go against the the three largest mercenary groups in the system? And nobody goes after them? We all saw what happened when Garus pissed them off. A whole coalition formed to put them in their place. But they managed to survive decades?

As the credits piled up, and their band of rogues grew Vash noticed a change in his brother. Kriash had become more violent, and picked up a mean addiction to red sand. The addictive substance empowered his brother with temporary biotic abilities which were incredibly useful in battles. But at the cost of Kriash's sanity, emotions and ability to be without the sand. Vash spoke to his brother multiple times about stopping ingesting the drug, and even seeked out other ways of help but nothing seemed to get through to Kriash. Worse, the deadly trio of big time mercenary groups were putting more pressure on them, locating and assaulting some of their penthouses. <- I would of expected this sooner Still, the brothers kept going. Vash taking more of a leadership role as Kriash's addiction crippled him more and more. Addling him with paranoia and a particularly vicious anger, tensions grew between them. Despite this Kriash joined his brother on a raiding operation on the planet of Zada Ban.

Tucked in the Xe Cha system of the The Shrike Abyssal, Zada Ban served as a weapons manufacturing plant for the Blood Pack. It was an ideal target for Drayak's Fist, they could hit the world, take whatever weapons they found then either use or sell them off throughout the Terminus systems. All while dealing a blow to the Blood Pack. It was a typical hit and run operation, drop at night time when the defenses are lulled, strike, then flee as quickly as they arrived. Vash, Kriash and small group of ten of their finest men deployed on the world. Dividing into two teams of six with each brother leading a team, the raid started off positively. They managed to make an advanced charge, getting a drop on the bulk of the Blood Pack forces. A rapid firefight ensued, the red sand aided Kriash hurling vorcha across the battlefield while Vash took down the enemy krogan squad leaders. Both brothers striking with brutal efficiency as did the brave men alongside them. The raid complicated as they moved deeper into the facility, gathering whatever weapons they could get their hands on.

The radio chatter lit up informing them of the arrival of Blood Pack reinforcements, greatly outnumbering them. Ships descended from the sky carrying soldiers, and others appeared from other parts of the facility. They had walked into a trap. Another more chaotic firefight ensued as Vash and his squad took cover, holding off whatever Blood Pack troopers they could. As he desperately tried to communicate with Kriash and his men all that Vash heard in reply was silence. The simple raid had taken a major turn for the worse. It had drawn out longer than Vash wanted, they were running low on ammunition with every swarm of Blood Pack troops they killed. As the fighting raged, he was left with only two men at his side. His mind went to retreat more than it had before. They were pushed back by Blood Pack forces and running out of room to run.

As their hope of survival dwindled Kriash appeared, uninjured and heading towards them. A cautious smile appeared on Vash's face, his twin brother was alive. That smile quickly vanished as Kriash quickly gunned down the remaining two men beside Vash. He had betrayed Vash, turned to join the Blood Pack. Promised a great deal of power, money and all the red sand he could snort. The addiction became too much for the krogan, it had worsened the tensions between the once very close brothers. He wanted to take Vash in alive, hand him over the Blood Pack's leaders as a prize. Vash replied with a rapidly bashing his shotgun into his brother's face, and a brutal brawl ensued. Punches, bites and kicks were exchanged as the twins scrambled to take the other one down. He'd never thought it'd come to this, blood turning on blood.

Kriash seemed to take the upper hand, kneeling on top of his brother with a fierce, cocky grin. He slowly drew his own shotgun from his hip and prepared to finish off Vash. But he hesitated, looking into his brother's eyes. A glimmer of remorse and second thoughts etched through his drug addled mind. Still his finger grazed over the trigger, and Vash reacted as one would in a life or death situation. He slammed his knife into his brother's left eye, driving it as deep as he could. Kriash fell backwards howling in shock, as Vash moved to finish the deed. He kept pushing the knife through his twin's eye socket with all the strength he could muster, until the screaming and shaking stopped. Vash pulled himself to his feet, breathing heavy, tears forming in his eyes. Adrenaline pulsed throughout his veins and sadness filled his heart. He was given no time to immediately grieve as more Blood Pack troops arrived, and he fled.

Vash ran until he found a ship, any ship. Luck smiled upon him on the worst of his days as an empty cargo vessel came into view. He dashed inside, took the controls and hit the ignition. Rapidly pressing the buttons with intent as he tried desperately to escape death. The Blood Pack emptied shots into the ship's outer plating, as Vash finally launched the vessel off the surface the gunfire followed him into the air. Pushing the thrusters as hard as they could go, he flew out Zada Ban's orbit with intent, rocketing through the stars until he found the mass relay. Then with a push of the button he returned to Omega, tearings streaming across his face.

Upon his return to Omega he disbanded Drayak's Fist, needing to take the heat off of himself. He went into hiding after that, recommending any other surviving members to do the same. Vash spent much of this time grieving, his brother had been at his side his entire life. He didn't know he could honestly survive on his own, or live with the intense regret surrounding his death that overcame him. He vowed to not let the pain stop him, that he'd push on. His brother would have wanted that, his real brother, not the man that had been savagely twisted by red sand. As the hunt for him subsided, Vash slowly returned to mercenary work. He knew no other line of work, it was the only thing he honestly could do.

For almost the next two decades he worked as a freelance mercenary, taking whatever jobs he could which paid well. He lived a subtle lifestyle during that time, a hard addiction to alcohol helping to cure the intense regret and sadness which still coursed through him. Recently he's found himself aboard the Achilles, the prospect of an honest job appealing to him.

_{S K I L L S}

---

• Close range combat - In his decades of mercenary work, and even stretching back to his time on Tuchanka, Vash has always excelled with firearms. Particularly in close range situations which is his specialty. Right in the heart of the fight where the imposing krogan is a force to be reckoned with. Whether armed with his M-76 Revenant or M-27 Scimitar he can be an absolute terror for any opponents unlucky enough to find themselves in his range.
• Explosives expert - A personal favorite, and a forte in which the krogan is well versed in, Vash knows the ins and outs when it comes to blowing things up. He carries a missile launcher for a reason, knowing when to deploy it. You give him explosive charges, he'll know just where to place them in order to breach a building, or even take it down.
• Hand to hand - In part due to his raw strength Vash is a tough foe to handle even unarmed. He can throw smaller opponents around with ease and deliver powerful blows with the best of them. He is someone that you would want alongside you in a streetfight.
• Mercenary leader - For nearly six decades Vash was the co-head of an esteemed mercenary company, Drayak's Fist. He was considered a great leader by those under him. He knows how mercenaries work and is a veteran of the lifestyle, able to sympathize with others in the field. He's also able to inspire those that fight beside him, and effectively lead them to do their best.

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

---

• Elanus Risk Control Services heavy Warlord armor - Scratched and scarred, Vash has had this set of armor for as long as he can recall. Its survived him reliably for awhile now, and he has no plans to phase it out. With powerful shields it gives the fierce krogan strong protection on the battlefield, allowing him to do damage right in the brunt of the action.
• M-76 Revenant - His personal favorite firearm, taken off a Blue Suns' commander who 'didn't need it anymore'. Its an ideal weapon for Vash to lay down relentless suppressing fire as well as eliminating multiple foes and holding down an area. While less accurate at longer ranges, it makes up for it in the sheer amount of bullets it can unleash at a high damage rate.
• Ariake Technologies M-27 Scimitar - The first weapon he purchased, it holds sentimental value to the krogan mercenary. Capable of rapid fire, Vash has equipped his own with a makeshift bayonet. Essentially a large knife taped to the bottom of the front of the shotgun.
• ML-77 Missile Launcher - Ideal for an explosion loving mercenary like Vash, the ML-77 allows him to obliterate enemies as well as more heavily armored targets. The krogan will often use the weapon to disrupt enemy encampments, causing chaos on the battlefield.
• Aldrin Labs Bluewire omni-tool - Basic and fitting his needs, Vash made sure his variant came equipped with an omni-blade. Further increasing his deadliness in close quarters.
• Food rations - Ideal for longer missions, Vash carries a supply of rations in case he needs to quickly sate his hunger. They are kept in pouches on his belt and are various dried fruits and meats.
• Metal flask - Often containing some kind of hard liquor, Vash keeps it tucked on his belt. Its an 8oz flask, ideal for an alcoholic on the go like him.

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

---

• Incendiary Ammo
• Frag Grenade
• Defense Matrix
• Adrenaline Rush

<sub>PSYCH PROFILE

T R A I T S</sub>

---

+ Amiable
+ Honest
+ Resolute

- Blunt
- Reckless
- Unpredictable

_{V I C E S}

---

• Alcoholic - His worst vice, Vash is frequently drunk when not on mission. Its especially rare to find him sober while onboard the Achilles. While he may not be totally wasted, he will more than likely have liquor in him. He's more of a happy, friendly alcoholic than a sad one, though when it is bad he isolates himself. He's pretty good about not drinking during missions, where he tries to keep a professional standard.
• Destruction/Explosion prone - When Vash is on mission, explosions are a common sight, they seem to follow him on the battlefield. While capable of subtlety, he much more prefers causing fire and explosions. He's found it is a much more 'certain' way to ensure success. As well as simply enjoying causing such acts. Collateral damage be damned.
• Kinslayer - Vash carries the infamy of having slain his twin brother, Kriash in combat decades ago. He's never discussed the exact details, and refuses to go into the incident. Still, others do know that he did kill his own brother. Bringing it up is a surefire way to get on his bad side.
• Bloodrage - The raw brutality of the krogan in combat is well known throughout the galaxy. When combat is at its absolute most frantic and Vash is taking a beating he will enter a heightened state in which a battle rage adrenalizes him. He will fight until every single enemy is dead on the floor, or he himself is. Ignoring pain, instead seeming to feed off it. As well as losing self control and logic. Its rare for him to enter it, but its an innate, well known trait of his species.

_{H A U N T}

---

Vash takes residence in the lounge on the Achilles. A quaint area, filled with a few pieces of comfortable furniture, a bar and a card table. The krogan has molded part of it into his personal dwelling. Turning a large couch in the back into a makeshift bed he crashes on as well as dragging in a larger metal table which he places his gear out on. Weapons, equipment, ammunition and tools haphazardly spread across the tabletop. An old team poster of the Usaru Maestros has been taped on one of the walls, Vash a biotiball fan despite not being himself biotic. A television has been hooked up on another wall and often plays old action or horror movies. A speaker frequently blares rapid, heavy metal music throughout the room. He's taken personal care to stock the bar (often with Krogan liquor) while making frequent use of it.

He's welcoming to visitors, and leaves the furniture besides his couch mostly untouched. The bar is kept tidy, minus some empty bottles stocked to the side. Vash likes the room in part because he drink all he likes, as well as relax in a calm, stress free space. Much of his time is spent gazing out the portside window at the stars.

_{D R I V E}

---

At face value, and if you ask Vash he'll simply state money. As well as pure enjoyment of doing what he does. He's not the kind of person to walk on a beach and grow old. While none of that is dishonesty, he does indeed value money and enjoy his work, deeper down its more of a fatalistic, almost nihilistic slant. That his species is a dying race, doomed to kill each other into extinction. He might as well burn out rather than fade away, there's no point in trying to build for the future. Make something of himself and live life to its fullest. That realization bears down hard on him. As well as the fact that he's still haunted by thoughts of killing his own brother, and will ultimately never escape them.

In general this is another high quality sheet! My only real problem arises in the history of the Drayak's Fist. You make them seem like an outright terror, running circles around the likes of the Eclipse, Blood Pack, and Blue Suns. The justification is they are small and thus can be illusive but part of me doesn't buy it. The section just seemed a little too unbelievable y'know? Like for example in ME:2 once Garrus started causing problems for the merc, groups they formed a coalition to take him down. Like they aren't going to just sit around and let a small time mercenary group basically bully them like that. So like them not just surviving but thriving for six decades seems a little much for me.

My second issue also kind of groups into this. Why would they try and make beef with the mercs anyway. Like yeah mercenary companies are going to have issues with one another. But why did the brother's choose to actively antagonize them by going after their bases? I just don't see the reasoning there.

Beyond that though its a very strong concept overall and I think it just needs some ironing out. Because right now you make it look like Drayak's Fist was the biggest and baddest mercenary company in the galaxy for sixty years. Which probably wasn't your intention but still! ^-^

---

@Jarl Coolgruuf

Kaitlyn Đào

_{KAITLYN ĐÀO
⟁ 28 ⟁ ♀️ ⟁ Human ⟁ Adept}

Track 1, Track 2, Track 3, Track 4, Track 5

As a person that usually has extensive spotify playlists for his Characters I approve

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

---

A few things immediately pop out about her just passing by her. First, she’s taller than average for woman at 5’10 but surprisingly lean given she has double rations. Biotics are a hell of a diet. Second, the smell of cigar smoke with undercurrents of alcohol will hit any passersby like a firm but entirely unexpected clap on the back. Lastly, the icy glare set in the bitchiest of resting bitch faces will turn toward them and non-verbally ask what the fuck they’re looking at.

Kaitlyn’s heritage is half Caucasian and half Asian, the latter having taken precedence over her facial features and hair. Specifics are spotty at best but it can be assumed at least one of her parent’s was Vietnamese given her surname. The other half of the family tree gave her a pale complexion but nothing else. Her figure is rather toned from almost a decade of near constant battle, but not as much as other soldiers as she relies more on the strength of her biotics than her muscles.

A tattoo made of three black stripes coils around her right arm starting at her wrist and ending on the side of her neck. Her lower back is marked by 4 grisly scars all about the shape and size of knife stab wounds. She could easily cover those with a full shirt but she seems to be almost permanently attached to those crop top tank tops she always wears along with accompanying long pants. It may seem like a strange combination but according to her her legs get cold easily.

_{B A C K G R O U N D}

---

_{”Next person to look at me like I’m a lost puppy while they think I’m not paying attention gets their kneecaps confiscated.”} <- Be careful not to cut yourself on that edge

Things started off bad for Kaitlyn right from the get go. A teenage mother who couldn’t care for the child put her up for adoption. She was passed around from foster home to foster home, never settling down for more than a year with one family and this lack of steady personal attachment set the tone for the rest of her life. Things got a lot easier when she just stopped trying to get attached to others and retreated a bit into herself. This tendency to withdraw only intensified when her biotic abilities began to surface.Biotic abilities only occur in humans because of E-Z exposure. So what exposed her? The most common is usually a spaceship exploding above a city and it sprinkling magic dust everywhere.

She displayed biotic potential at the very onset of puberty. This, of course, set her apart from her classmates and other children in the various neighborhoods she was shuffled between. As is the case so many times with young biotics, her latent power made her a target of both suspicion and bullying from her peers. Even some of her caretakers were noticeably wary around her which she internalized and further shied away from interaction with others.

Her previous experience made it a no-brainer to join the Alliance military’s BAaT program the moment she received her implant. <- The thing is she wouldn't of "joined the BAaT problem, the BAaT would of selected her. It was a very secretive process and typically they would of grabbed the kid as soon as she started showing biotic potential. The separation from her most recent caretakers didn’t bother her in the slightest. After all, she barely remembered their names back then. The chance to develop her abilities was exciting, but more than that she couldn’t wait to meet other biotics. Who better to understand her situation than people like her? Perhaps this would finally be a place where she’d feel safe coming out of her shell. Well... you know what they say about assuming...

She responded extremely well to the harsh, almost barbaric teaching style of Commander Vyrnnus and swiftly mastered each and every lesson with seemingly no effort, much to the jealousy of her fellow cadets. <-Vyrnnus did not join the BAaT program until the closing years of the problem. So what was life before that? Calling Vyrnnus a father figure in her life is an understandably unsavory idea, but not wholly inaccurate. So how did she feel when he got killed? She did eagerly agree to receive an L2 implant at his prompting and took to it without a single complication. <-Literally all L-2s give complications. Sure some are a lot less worse then others giving you only the occasional head-splitting migraine, but nobody just has them and are "okay" Her already impressive ability exploded in strength mere days after such radical brain surgery. It seemed the more Vyrnnus pushed her the more she succeeded and this soon lead to her being placed on a pedestal above the other candidates. It’s bad enough for a teenager to hear “why can’t you be like so and so?” but add the stress of constant physical and mental abuse in the name of being made into a living weapon and resentment was inevitable. The phrase “Why can’t you be more like Đào!?” became a common “motivational tool” of Vyrnnus’.

Understandably, many of her fellow trainees ostracized her. From purposely occupying more seat space than necessary during meals, to never inviting her to join them during down time, they did everything they could to exclude her. More than anything in her life before or since, her experiences being an outcast among those she thought would most understand her struggle hardened her soul and made her the sub-zero bitch she is today.

Her exceptional ability made her a prime candidate for the Alliance’s recovery efforts of the capable biotics the BAaT program managed to turn out before its shutdown. The fat paycheck they offered was rather enticing but mercenary work appealed to her more. At this point in her life, she was disillusioned with the concept of loyalty but surprisingly mismatched people can always come together if enough money is at stake.

She joined up with a mercenary group known as Tempest Cain for 2 years but promptly left after an incident that both gave her the scars on her back and provided the genesis for her alcoholism. < -How did she get those scars? How did it drive her to alcoholism Not even her fellow mercenaries who were with her that day know what really happened and she’s never been inclined to share. < -Like I know being mysterious is cool and all, but like the history is a comprehensive back story. You can't handwave it and address it later. From there, she bounced from job to job and from place to place for the next 6 years. Glossing over six years is typically a "no-no" especially considering how young she is. You don't have to tell us about every year, but like maybe some stories from that time? Some interesting things that happened. She worked everything from private security to other mercenary groups, but mostly the latter. Now in her late 20's she finds it easier to navigate a battlefield than the perils of small talk and liquor is her compass.

_{S K I L L S}

---

> Pistol Marksmanship
Biotics are all well and good, but what happens when the user gets tired? Kaitlyn’s answer is to shoot them center mass until either she catches her breath or the other guy stops moving

> Combat Biotics
Her experience in this area is extensive to say the least. She was considered a prodigy before she spent 8 years getting paid to clean house with her abilities. To put it simply, her biotic skill and raw power are both staggering.

> Intimidation
The aura she puts off is unpleasant at rest, but when she actually tries she can be downright terrifying and she knows it. Her skill in putting the fear of God into someone with a few words and a glare that could smelt ore has come in handy on more than a few occasions.

> Interrogation
Let’s just say she’s experienced with using Reave off the battlefield as well and leave it at that.

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

---

> Armax Armor Predator Armor (L)
Being an adept often means high volumes of fire in her direction in combat so she prefers armor with more shielding than plating as she isn’t outside of cover for more than a few moments at a time. Lighter armor also prevents her from tiring quickly which means more powerful biotics for longer. Kaitlyn has completely painted over the standard camouflage pattern with a light tan and turned it into a canvas of sorts. An extensive and detailed tapestry covers the entire right arm, right leg, and most of the upper torso featuring a connected series of images done in black, white, and or red acrylic paint. It might tell a story if anyone could figure out where it began. Perhaps it begins with the human skull impaled through both temples with a single arrow or maybe somewhere near the barb wire rose coiled around a blazing torch.

> GX2 Harpy
No one is entirely sure how she managed to get her hands on this Cerberus skunkwork project pistol, <- If you are going to have a gun from somebody like Cerberus there is a story there and you should tell it. Maybe it's a story to add to the history section? Working with or against Cerberus is a thing that y'know is good to know. but it’s the only firearm she carries into battle and for good reason. The Harpy Line of pistols may lack in heat dispersal, but they more than make up for it with both exceptional accuracy and firepower.

> High Calorie Energy Bars and Electrolyte Juice
A 4,000 calorie diet can be hard to maintain and most serious biotics carry some sort of ultra-condensed battlefield rations.

> L-2 Biotic Implant
It hasn’t started eating her brain yet so why fix what ain’t broke? <- See comments above

> Armali Council “Prodigy” Biotic Amp
Such a high end piece of equipment is normally off limits to the likes of a lowly mercenary but it can also pay to have business partners in low places. The Asari producers, the "councils" are very particular about their clients and who gets them. As a result they are some of the most expnesive pieces of equipment in the Galaxy. Unless she is extremely independently wealthy which is something you should mention, there is no way she could of just bought it off somebody. But for example if she did a job for the black market merchant or even the Council that is a different story. But that's a story you should tell.

> Aldrin Labs ”Bluewire” Omni-Tool
It was cheap, it does exactly what she needs it to. Good enough for her.

> Old Broken Knife
Exactly what it sounds like. The edge is dull, the blade is spotted with rust, the tip is entirely broken. She only brings it with her when she leaves the ship, even on shore leave despite never once having been seen even drawing it during combat.

So why does she carry it?

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

---

Singularity
Reave
Throw
Shockwave

<sub>PSYCH PROFILE

T R A I T S</sub>

---

Dependable
Diligent
Determined
Withdrawn
Cold
Untrusting

_{V I C E S}

---

Cigar Smoking
She had a stint with more serious drugs back in the day and, after finding they inhibited her combat performance, chose a sort of middle road. Plus she's figured out how to use her biotics to enhance the tobacco buzz which helps her zone out and relax despite her life not being in imminent danger.

Alcoholism
Kaitlyn drinks often to keep up a buzz and soothe her mind. She uses it as a sleep aid as well and hasn’t been able to fall asleep without her nightly shot for at least 6 years. Despite meticulous control of her alcohol intake to avoid being drunk, her physical and psychological dependence on it is clear. Interestingly enough, her biotics seem to be enhanced rather than simply maintained when she has a shot of hard liquor before a mission.

_{H A U N T}

---

The deepest bowels of the engine room is where she stakes her claim. Her "quarters" are about as sparse as can be and only appear to be lived in due to the hammock strung between two pipes. She keeps a yoga mat rolled up in one corner when not in use as well a small, portable workbench complete with tools she uses to tinker with her small assortment of pistols, a cigar humidor, and a case of various liquors including vodka, whiskey, tequila, even a bottle of absinthe if she can find one.

Kaitlyn leaves only a few times a day for things such as bathroom activities, to get food (which she promptly brings back down to her hidey hole to eat), or when called by an officer. She even makes a point of waiting to shower long after everyone else has just to avoid that little bit of social interaction.

_{D R I V E}

---

In all honesty, she isn’t sure anymore. Survival is an instinct for her at this point. Even if she were to completely let go, she could likely keep herself afloat for years just by reflex. Perhaps if she were to dig deep enough and be honest with herself, she might admit that she secretly hopes someone will give enough of a shit about her to break down her walls and drag her, kicking and screaming, out of the hole she’s dug for herself.

Alright I'm not gonna sugar coat it here there are some problems. On first impression when I read the sheet basically all I was thinking was "Oh this is a Jack clone" which is never a good sign to start off with.

In my opinion, the major problem relating to this is the history section. In its current form it is very weak. It skips over entire sections of her life. Some of it directly conflicts with established lore and generally it just feels incomplete. Which is an unfortunate thing because you leave room for a bunch of hooks and ideas to expand upon and then you just don't. But currently it feels incomplete in way? I don't really know how Kaitlyn is, I don't know what makes her unique. And because the history section falls flat and I can't really connect with her my thought goes immediately to other edgy biotics which is why I'm like oh "Jack Clone" and the Haunt and Drive doesn't really help in that regard either.

Beyond that there are some other issues mostly in the equipment section.

My advice for you if you want to continue pursuing this character is to redo that History section. Like if you have time start from scratch and work from the ground up. Because right now the sheet is just isn't there yet.

---

@Monochromatic Rainbow

Cyborg Space Persian 2.0

_{⟁ 27 ⟁ Female ⟁ Human ⟁ Vanguard}

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

Firuzeh stands at about 176cm with a muscular but at first seemingly softer 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 scarring and other damage - bullet wounds, miscellaneous damage from an eventful life. 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. A closer inspection would reveal to an experienced technician that the initial installation was rushed, much of the skin around the prosthetic having died off, leaving the latter improvements and additions exposed for all to see.

Her right arm has been replaced in its entirety, including the shoulder, with a high quality cybernetic, carbon nanotube muscle fibers 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 that would be the bicep with her initials and various other designs. The cybernetics are present elsewhere in her body, but are 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 well past shoulder length. Her left eye is of a minty green hue, warm and friendly for the most part, but years of misfortune have taken their toll, and the effects of her time during and after the Skyllian Blitz are clearly visible. Her right eye is prosthetic and plainly so at close distance. A small scar runs the distance from her lower lip to her chin, a greater scar - evidently a burn - mars the left side of her neck, and her nose is bent at a permanent angle.

_{B A C K G R O U N D}
____________________________________________________________________________

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. I guess my question would be how was her relationship with her family growing up? Because later on there is a fear of returning because all of her work got destroyed. And later she goes to lengths to make it look like she died. So did that come from a particulary bad experinces growing up? Or was that just her own insecurities about her failures coming through?

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 of the First Contact War - what little she could understand of it at her young age, at any rate - 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 a couple decades at any rate. Throughout all of the exitement, she lead a mostly normal life like most any other well off 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 early at the age of 16, a classic overachiever, having decided with some mournful resignation that she would become a scientist.

Despite her misgivings, she handled university as well as could be expected, earning a PhD in cybernetic neuroscience, a master’s in bionic technology, and her bachelor’s in biomedical engineering. <- So how old was she when she got her PhD? I'm just asking because typically a PhD is around an eight year problem and you end up getting the degree in your early 30s if you go straight from your bachelors to your masters to your PhD. Especially with something as rigorous as a biomedical engineering degree. Upon her departure from university, she had at least three job offers in prestigious earth based medical firms. 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 - ordinarily there would have been a push to find colonists willing to undergo augmentation, but the colonies held few transhumanist trendsetters, and primarily they studied a group of colonists already sporting cybernetics. It was an assignment she was greatly excited over, and 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 turian present on the research team, driving her nearly mad with incessant questioning about life on Palaven and Turian cybernetic advances. With said turian as a mostly voluntary guinea pig, she even figured out how to adapt dextro food paste, and actual dextro foods, to Persian recipes she’d learned from her kabab merchant 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 even thinner she snapped one day, seizing a Carnifex off a dead pirate who had made it a little farther than most and rushed to aid in whatever way she could. Whenever the pistol overheated she would compensate with biotics. Her family, influential as it was, had ensured she was not packed away to distant training facilities, and as such she had never recieved more than rudimentary training - she had precious little fine control, but plenty of power - at times her target would barely notice, at others her biotics would render a pirate into a fine paste. The bloodshed shocked her at first, but as the fighting wore on she began to take a liking to it, near the end of the blitz taking an almost disturbing joy in killing her fellow living beings. By the end she had aquired a shotgun 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. <- The Blitz only lasted for a day. So you are going to have to edit your time line here. A particularly well hidden batarian sniper armed with a Kishock landed a hit squarely on her, thankfully missing her vital organs, but sundering her right arm and shoulder 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 of composites and nanotubes. Her colleagues had saved her life, at great personal risk, with her turian 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 better judgement and the desperate attempts of the lab staff to stop her, she had dragged herself outside again to continue fighting.<- Already established but the fighting would of been over at this point. The Blitz wasn't a war, it was a realtivly large skirmish with pirates. She didn’t have the energy to run from place to place as she once had, but with pistol in hand she had done what she could, firing in vain at anything that dared show its head near her.

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 her home away from home 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. <- Suggestion for the condensing. Maybe you could have her lose her limb in the lab explosion instead? So it happens all on one day? Instead of stretching it out which could not have happened given the timelime. Idk it is just an idea.

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 weapon 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 - tinged with 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. <- A few days seems a little short realistically people probably wouldn't let her out of the hospital for at least a week or more. Unless she sneaked out of course which is of course another story. ;] 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 violence. But also a sense of fear over returning home. Her work was destroyed, she had nothing to show for it.

And so she put 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 - and dull mundanity.

So, on Elysium she stayed - after a brief foray into orbit, helping with the rebuilding and taking whatever odd jobs came her way. She felt a reluctance to return to larger galactic society, and a malaise grew in her soul. She fell through the cracks, falling in with gangs running arms, bodies - and cybernetic technology. <- Where the gangs always there and she ignored them? Or did they appear/grow in power after the Blitz jumping on the chaos? Her expertise lead to her cementing a steady position in the lower hierarchy, someone who could patch minor wounds - and more importantly, reverse engineer any piece of cybernetic tech she got her hands on. Time passed in a blur, and she lived for months in a cycle of sex, violence, drugs, and exploitation. Things came to a head when, under circumstances that she cannot remember even now, she found herself in an alley, bleeding profusely and with multiple broken bones. For some reason, she had fallen out with the gang, and their punishment had been severe. <- This is kinda pet peeve of mine. Just because the person don't know doesn't mean we don't know. This is a comprehensive back story it is suppose to covers everything that is brought up. So the reason she was nearly left dead is probably a good thing to add. And the reason that Firuzeh counted it a small miracle she hadn’t been shot. As it was, she was left in critical condition, and was rushed into emergency surgery - and into the operating room of a distant cousin. She had saved her life,

Firuzeh returned to earth for a time, at a loss for what to do. She couldn’t fit back in with her family, many of whom thought she had died in the Skyllian Blitz, and her purposeful lack of contact left a rift between them that would never truly heal. She missed the daily thrill of a new challenge every day she had experienced in the research lab, alien sights unseen before… and the rush of combat, the visceral satisfaction of fighting and killing. She sought therapy for a time <- Hey I like at least attempting healthy coping mechanisms! ^-^, trying to reintegrate herself, to suppress the bloodlust that had awoken on Elysium - nothing worked, and she drifted listlessly, contributing nothing to society. For another year, she spiraled into a mire of depression, unemployed and living with family. She was healed within a few months, but her mind was not. She even fell into homelessness in the end - unwilling to dip into her savings, family unwilling to accomodate her. <- Not fitting in doesn't really doesn't seem like a reason for her family to disown her. Maybe not contacting them, but most family reaccept their runaway children with open arms? Did he relationship with her family get worse during this time? And if so what did they fight about?

It was then that she received an offer. One through back channels, illicit means, and a stranger accosting her on the street. An… organization on the planet of Chalkhos, in the Terminus systems, claimed to have snippets of data from her research team’s work on Elysium, and sought the expertise of the only known survivor in reconstructing that work. How did they recover the data? It seemed almost too good to be true after the downhill spiral she had found herself in. With little trepidation, she left earth behind for the second time, and made her way to the lawless expanse of the Terminus Systems.

Almost immediately, Firuzeh began to feel herself at home on Chalkhos. The experiments and research conducted on the planet, while far cry from the pristine and near impeccable scientific and ethical standards of the lab on Elysium, filled her with a purpose she had lacked for so long. And despite the lack of adrenaline surges, the dearth of death defying dashes from munitions depots and flaming wreckage, the old thrill of learning and pushing the boundaries of her own knowledge and skill filled her with enthusiasm for the challenges of each day. Over the two years she worked with the lab, she ended up personally implanting of many of the devices they themselves were prototyping or had developed. Some she applied experimentally, confident in their safety but distrustful of the ability of comparatively uneducated subjects to provide feedback, whilst some were all but finished products. Some were intended to boost performance in stressful situations, moderating heartrate and nervous responses to optimize performance in combat - but the ones that drew her interest were those intending to prolong human life even further. Injections to strengthen the myelin sheaths over nerve cells, implants to optimize the heart and keep it pumping strongly for longer, some implants attempted to store copies of relatively undamaged DNA and counteract accumulated damage over time, and some were purely for vanity - keeping skin softer, wrinkle free. Any implant that showed promise and no side effects she eagerly applied to herself - whether or not they would give her any benefit she didn’t know, but she went with them anyway. She buried away the ethical quandaries their experiments raised - focused solely on the outcome. The ends would justify any means, and she a people lifted from the constraints of biological limitation.

But the good times could not last forever. The lab was an illicit operation <- What was necessarily illicit? You said that they didn't follow ethical standards but that could mean a whole lot of things. Give us deets. funded by a legitimate megacorporation in Council space, and when Council investigation into their activities had begun, the lab on Chalkhos found itself unceremoniously purged from all records, and all funding ceased to exist.

Unable to continue their work, the research team scattered to the winds, and Firuzeh found herself drifting aimlessly once more. She had money to support herself almost indefinitely - but she needed purpose, or at the very least, something to shoot at.

_{S K I L L S}
____________________________________________________________________________

L-2 Biotic:
Initially seeming to have been an utter failure, Firuzeh’s L-2 Implant biotics were, for a time, seemingly all but nonexistant. However, acute stress, and years of practice on her own have yielded powerful biotics - but with precious little controllability. Firuzeh’s biotic abilities are strictly limited to those needing little precision and benefitting most from raw power, and thus complement her aggressive, close quarters fighting style. The Implant may also be responsible for the bloodthirst she suffers from in combat situations. <- Why hasn't she switched over to the L-3? She doesn't seem the type to be afraid of risks? And it fits her whole keep on modding, keep on making yourself better transhumanism vibe.

Excellent Cook:
Unexpected for someone bearing her resume, Firuzeh is an experienced cook and has had over a decade of practice. Primarilly knowing how to make various Persian dishes, she nevertheless knows the basics of most other major culinary traditions - and more importantly, is adept at following extranet cooking instructions and adapting their tastes to many different palates. She is even able to cook using dextro ingredients, long hours spent practicing with various Turian foods giving her some knowledge of their use, and building a resistance, giving her the ability to - if nothing else, taste the food for seasoning before serving without suffering adverse effects.

Cybernetic Science:
While her ability to apply her skills in this field is limited without access to a full R&D lab and the right tools, Firuzeh’s extensive knowledge of cybernetics, the (human) nervous system, and how the two interface allow her to perform maintenance and repairs on allies with such hardware.

Close Quarters Fighting:
Despite receiving little formal training in the area, Firuzeh has become adept at fighting in hectic close quarters. Favoring a shotgun, a pistol, and the strength of her cybernetic limb, she becomes a bloodthirsty avatar of carnage.

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

M-6 Carnifex:
It’s a Carnifex.

AT-12 Raider:
A short ranged, brutally powerful Batarian shotgun, Firuzeh refuses to divulge the means by which she obtained the item. She nevertheless takes a grim pleasure in using a weapon of Batarian make on Batarian pirates.

HyperGuardian Armor set:
Heavy, durable, much easier to obtain that proper military grade heavy armor. Perfect for a bloodthirsty CQC fighter.

Savant Bio-Amp:
How she acquired such a rare amp is unknown, though family connections likely had something to do with it.

Logic Arrest Omni-Tool:
Only a premium Omni-Tool would suffice for the daughter of a wealthy family.

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

Biotic Charge
Nova
Omni Grenade
Concussive Shot

_{PSYCH.PROFILE}
____________________________________________________________________________

Khouroushi_F, Psych Eval, 2177 CE

Firuzeh presents a conundrum. She is quite clearly an inquisitive and formidably intelligent woman, though often withdrawn and introverted. Over multiple sessions, trust was established, and she opened up, showing an animated and very opinionated nature. She harbors a free-spirited rebellious streak, and has gone on many lengthy rants about the nature of various political and economic figures. When asked about events during and after the Skyllian Blitz, however, she refuses to speak.

Further analysis pending.

_{T R A I T S}
____________________________________________________________________________

Positive:
Intelligent
Analytical

Mixed:
Stubborn
Bloodthirsty

Negative:
Outspoken
Emotionally Withdrawn

_{V I C E S}
____________________________________________________________________________

Sex:
Like many, Firuzeh turns to the pleasures of the flesh to ease her soul. A habit that began after the Skyllian Blitz during her time in the criminal underworld, she has forsaken the hard drugs that once accompanied it - but not the act itself. Preferring unconnected flings than time with those she knows, seeking not to allow others past her emotional defenses once more.

Gaming:
A fan of video games since childhood, Firuzeh can spend hours at a time lost in another world, clearing her mind of the mundanities and troubles of her life. While never an addict, she is vulnerable to brief bouts of obsession, and entire days can pass by almost unnoticed by her.

Chocolate:
A far milder vice than some others, ever since her youth she has had a profound weakness for chocolate, and does her best to ensure an ample supply follows her wherever she goes. Fiercely defended like the hoard of an ancient dragon of myth.

_{H A U N T}
____________________________________________________________________________

The Kitchen, Personal Quarters

Firuzeh likes to cook. It calms her, allows her to focus on something that brings her joy, and has something to show for it afterwards. Largely, she will be preparing meals for the crew, putting some effort into tailoring individual dishes to individual tastes while ensuring each crew member receives at least the necessary nutrition. At other times she allows her imagination to run wild, and experiments with spare or exotic ingredients picked up in strange ports - sometimes these experiments bear fruit, and a new staple dish is added to her lineup - at other times it results in almost inedible failures that only a Varren or someone in the grip of starvation would find appealing. Otherwise, she can largely be found in her personal quarters, likely gaming or conducting what little research and development she is capable of with the limited resources availabe.

_{D R I V E}
____________________________________________________________________________

A part of her life from her early teens, Firuzeh has been an ardent transhumanist. Believing that the biological limitations imposed on them could - and should - be transcended by augmenting and replacing parts of their bodies with cybernetics or heavily engineered replacement tissues. It was the driving force behind her choice of education, her employment, and more. Her commitment to this ideal has only increased in the aftermath of the Skyllian Blitz - she wishes to shed herself of the burdens on her psyche, to free her mind and body from everything she has endured during and since that transformative event in her life. She almost seeks to rid herself of her humanity, to flee from the trauma and depression she has struggled with - and to rid herself of the dark side of her being that was awakened on Elysium. Perhaps the side affects of her L-2 implant manifesting at long last, or perhaps some latent part of her own being that simply required a trigger to emerge, Firuzeh battles with a love of violence and bloodshed that terrifies her. And yet, she finds herself propelled along by that same bloodlust - seeking conflict and battles for the sheer joy of killing and maiming. She seeks a way to not only defeat the limitations of biology, but the impositions of her mind.

_{C Y B E R N E T I C S} Thank you for the little breakdown!
____________________________________________________________________________

Firuzeh has a profound weakness to EMP and electrical weaponry, while such weapons will not permanently injure her beyond that of a normal person if she is not subjected to them for long, such an attack will leave her cybernetics temporarily disabled, and she will become all but useless for a minute or two as her systems reboot. Additionally, the plethora of hardware she has installed into herself gives her a metabolism to be feared, and she must consume a prodigious amount daily to keep herself running. She has skeletal reinforcement, primarily in her upper body, enabling her to use the full power of her cybernetic limb, as well as greatly increasing the resistance of her upper body to skeletal damage. In addition to the obvious benefit of her arm, capable of superhuman feats of strength though lacking in miscellaneous features - designed purely for dynamic strength and durability as a combat cybernetic - Firuzeh has implants that modulate her heart, lungs, adrenal glands, and nervous systems, enabling her to respond to combat and general stress more fluidly than normal. Her eye is capable of viewing the world in the infrared and ultraviolet spectrums, and possesses telescopic capabilities, enabling her to focus on targets further away than normal, albeit at the cost of needing to keep the second eye closed. Additionally, her arm has had eezo nodes installed at key points, mirroring those of her own nervous system, enabling her to utilize the prosthetic for biotics as she would her natural arm.

Only time will tell if her implants to slow the process of aging will have any effect, however.

Alrighty! Once again this a pretty solid character but there are some hiccups.

Like the majority here most of those problems are of course in the history section.

The major problem is with the events surrounding the Blitz. As mentioned above, the Blitz wasn't like a year, it was a single battle. A battle that only lasted a handful of hours. So that whole section is going to need to be reworked and retrofitted because right now it just doesn't work.

Beyond that the rest of the sheet is pretty solid. I threw some more questions out there and some prompts that if you have time you could answer or add to the sheet. But it's very good so far!

Mass Effect: Renegade

Yup that's me. You're probably wondering how I got here.

In other news......

_Soon

Mass Effect: Renegade

@Lauder@DJAtomika
Y'all have been added to the list! ^<^

Daily Update:
Sorry for the real lack of activity on my part today. My brain hates me sometimes and is like let's go to bed at 7 even though you need to be up at 9. And I've been busy with a bunch of other stuff so I really haven't had time to hop on until now. That being said, I currently feel if I look at a screen for too much longer, my eyes will melt and so I'm going to step away for a bit and maybe take a nap. If y'all need anything from me just shoot me a PM or tag me here and I'll address it after I sleep.

Judging from my current time line for reviews I should be able to get most of them out tomorrow and those that I can't I'll finish up on Friday. Cause I wanna try my best to get in as many of them I can before applications are due!

Anyway talk to y'all later!

Absolute Comics - Season Two: The Monster Within

@Ceta de Cloyes
If it makes you feel better, I'm in the same boat here. I had my post ready and after reading it over I was like.... wait this is trash and doesn't do anything that I want to do. So I may have made the stupid mistake of rather then posting it and just moving on I deleted it and I'm now starting from scratch. Though I will say there is something cathartic about deleting 3,000+ words and several hours of work with one press of a button lol, felt very zen.

Mass Effect: Renegade

@Rtron
Gotcha' expect a review soonish!

@Star Lord
I'll take a quick gander soonish as well to make sure that all the most pressing issues were addressed. And the color is all good!

@Prizrak
That's fine! Though be warned that I'm not going to be likely to delay the applications for a WIP in this case since you have unfortunately displayed interest so late. But I implore you to shoot your shoot and my advice would just be to have that WIP as completely finished as possible!

@Lauder

---

Also another quick update on my part.

Working on reviews as we speak! I also managed to finish up the sheet for the sweet summer child/complete trashcan fire of a living being that I feel the urge to protect at all costs that is Faena if y'all want to take a gander. Just to give you guys another sample if you still need help in that area!

Mass Effect: Renegade

@Xanadu so how much will character classes be taken into acceptance? Im guessing you want some variety?

@Heat

Yeah variety is important, but it is also honestly the least of my concern. This isn't a game where our team comp has to be optimal. Sometimes I find it is more fun to be less optimal actually. But let us say that I have two sheets of identical caliber and one is a Solider and the other is an Engineer. If for example, I'm already looking at accepting three other soldiers and we only have one other engineer, then I'm probably going to be more inclined to go for the engineer. But that being said before that I'm going to go through some other stuff as well like writing ability as shown in previous RPs, the level of commitment they have shown to previous RPs etc as well. So it is far from the deciding factor but will help inform my decision in those rare edge cases.

Mass Effect: Renegade

Disgusting.

@Inkarnate

---

And time for Practice Review #2!

@Dervish's

Ardan

_{⟁ 41 ⟁ Male ⟁ Turian ⟁ Soldier}

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

Ardan is a powerfully built and burly turian <- So is he a bird or a bear ;) who has been conditioned by a lifetime of military conditioning and his own drive to strive for peak physical fitness. Standing at 6’05” (182cm) and weighing around 208 pounds (94 kilograms), he maintains a strict military-style fitness regimen, situation permitting, and a mostly regulated diet that permits few luxuries. His carapace is indented and marked from scars from years of combat experience and entirely too many close calls with shrapnel, he’s fortunate to still possess all of his limbs and digits and both of his eyes.

His face is covered by one of the Oma Ker colony markings, a dark blue that sometimes gets lost in the pale grey tone of his carapace when in darkened conditions, a constant condition on Omega. The entirety of his fringes are coloured, and a singular symmetrical line runs down his face, just under his pronounced cheek plates and across the bottom of his chin, and the left and right sides of his rectangular, serrated nose are similarly coloured. Much like his personality, it can be subtle until you begin to notice it, then it becomes very difficult to ignore. I really liked that last line!

His eyes seem to compromise between his tone and markings in that they are a pleasant blue-grey that are narrow and skeptical, if not outright distrustful, of people outside of what little close circle of friends and acquaintances he has left. Were it not for his perpetual predisposition to sneering and otherwise being dour of disposition, he could possibly be poster material for the Hierarchy recruiting vids, but those days are long behind him.

_{B A C K G R O U N D}
________________________________________

Born on the turian colony of Oma Ker in 2138CE, Ardan Parvius was the second born son to Varvius and Octaana Parvius, a turian artillery officer with the 78th Artillery Regiment and a fighter pilot with the 16th Flotilla respectively, giving the Parvius family a rather distinguished military pedigree and yet another cemented piece in a storied family mosaic. From a young age, Ardan learned of his family’s legacy and place in turian society on both his parents’ knees and grew up knowing that his parents could perish any day answering the call of duty. Because their service often took them across Citadel Space, Ardan was constantly on the move and all but assured to follow in his parents’ footsteps in becoming a career military man.

While his older brother Casius would enter his mandatory 15 year public service position as a police officer on Palaven, Ardan joined the military in 2153CE and after basic training he was enlisted in the 105th Combat Engineering Corps due to his high scores in mathematics and sciences. Keeping in touch with his parents’ units via Extranet packets on an allotted biweekly basis, Ardan’s career took him across Citadel space, joining in larger military exercises on turian colony worlds and joint exercises with allied asari and salarian units, leading to friendly rivalries with the 105th’s counterparts from the other Council militaries.

While most of his career was training and rising up the rank structure, reaching Corporal after 2 years of service <- I'm wondering if there is a reason he went the NCO route instead of becoming an officer? Because with the pedigree he probably could of done that. Was it his choice? Or like familial tradition to start out at the bottom. , Ardan did see combat on remote worlds, engaging with pirates, turian separatists, and others operating outside of galactic law. His unit, being a combat engineer regiment, was largely responsible for establishing base camps, building defenses, and laying area denial weapons like landmines and turrets to deter the enemy. At the earliest opportunity, Ardan took Sapper and underwater demolitions training, wishing for an opportunity to bring the fight to the enemy.

These skills brought Ardan into specialized strike teams that acted in support of the infantry regiments and were used to destroy bunkers, breach buildings, and sabotage enemy infrastructure and vehicles. For his role in destroying an enemy artillery emplacement ahead of the main assault, Ardan was given the Banner of the 105th to carry on parade for the next month and several commendations from his superior officers. This would be the height of his career, as the next year was relatively peaceful without any major combat deployments until word came of an unknown alien race activating the dormant Relay 314. Soon, Ardan Parvius two months after his 19th birthday, would be deployed to Shanxi in what would be the largest military deployment of his career.

Ardan’s first meeting with humans ultimately ended up being a long-range firefight where him, his fellow sappers, and the infantry they were attached to spent hours shooting at distant muzzle flashes. The first time he saw a human up close was the corpses of the line they had overrun, and he found the humans to be unnervingly similar in appearance to asari. Thinking they were some distant cousin of the asari, Ardan spent most of the conflict paranoid about the humans having powerful biotic capabilities which they seemed to be holding back as some kind of strategic gambit to hit the turian forces should they overextend their supply lines. The human forces were quickly overrun and the planet was soon under turian control. A month long occupation followed, luring the turian garrisons into a false sense of security.

When the 2nd Fleet broke through and hit the turian positions, the once dominant turians found themselves on the defense and constantly losing ground to the fresh and vengeful human forces. Ardan fought hard and scored kills against human armour, including two Grizzly and three Mako tanks, before being ordered to retreat. Very nearly defying orders, Ardan and his unit reluctantly left the planet to regroup with the fleet.

When they found out that turian casualties at that point were higher than the humans, Ardan demanded his commanding officer convince his superiors to organize a strike force against the human supply lines and disorganize their forces before they could regroup and dig in to prepare for another invasion. Although rebuked for his insubordination, Captain Orodis <- I'm assuming Orodis is the commanding officer mentioned above? If that's the case maybe you might want to introudce his name earlier to avoid confusion, because the name kinda of comes out of nowhere. nonetheless began to coordinate and organize an advance strike force with the Fleet with the blessing of high command. However, before the turians could counter-attack, a ceasefire was called and it came known that the Council was negotiating with the humans, the asari leading the efforts, further lending credence to Ardan’s suspicion that humans might be their distant cousins. Furious with the resolution of the conflict and how the turians, the most powerful military force in the galaxy, was forced into a treaty with the humans after suffering heavier losses was a scar that was, in Ardan’s eyes, an unforgivable embarrassment.

For the first time in the sapper’s career, Ardan started to think that maybe the turian Hierarchy had grown soft and would not be prepared to meet its peacekeeping mandate if its response to future threats was equally flaccid and spineless. Were the turians not the ones who had single handedly stopped the krogans during the Krogan Rebellions? <- The Salarians would like to have a word with you sir. Ardan asked the Spirits for guidance, the spirit of the Hierarchy, of his Regiment, of his family, and he found no answers or comfort. Finding out his mother had lost a leg after being shot down in the conflict did little to steel Ardan’s resolve, and after watching the televised treaty being signed between human and turian representatives, most insultingly of all the Hierarchy agreeing to pay war reparations, was too much for Ardan. After 4 years of service, well short of the mandatory 15 years of public service turian culture demands of all citizens, Ardan deserted from the military, disappearing from the public eye for some time. <- How did he get away? The Hierarchy seems like the type to not look on dissertation with any kindness.

The next time anyone from the Parvius family heard from Ardan was when his brother Casius received an Extranet packet from an unknown source that turned out to be Ardan letting him know he was safe and in the Terminus Systems some three years later, putting as much space between him, humanity, and the Hierarchy as possible. Ardan managed to get a few more messages back and forth with Casius, who was now serving as a hastatim, and now acting as an emissary between Ardan and his parents. <- This is the last that we really here about Ardan's family back home, which is a shame because I think it's a good line of exploration. Honestly I'm just wondering how his relationship with Casius is? Did he understand why he left? Or was it just kinda, I'm gonna help you because your my kin kind of thing. The former soldier disappeared for quite some time, only trying to contact his family once every few months. Before long, Ardan came to Omega, hoping to make a new life for himself far from what her perceived was a corrupt and ineffectual galactic government.

The next three years had not treated Ardan kindly, as trying to adjust to life on the largely lawless station was far outside of the orderly and lawful existence he had lead up until his departure from the military. He took up work with a building firm that needed someone with expertise in blasting rock, or tearing down old buildings, and for a while, Ardan found a humble calling that brought in enough pay to support a small one bedroom apartment in a mostly turian district, a mostly out of the way place with few amenities and beneath the notice of the gang warfare that seemed to sweep across the asteroid colony like clockwork. And so for years, Ardan somehow avoided making any meaningful social connections as his life was a routine and regimented cycle of work, exercise and training, and preparing to do it over again.

He had a few belongings to his name, including a small crate of things he’d managed to grab from Oma Ker before his defection, but it didn’t take long for him to realize that he needed more than his old service pistol for defense. Coming from a society where violent separatist groups were an expected part of life, living somewhere that was owned and run by street gangs was enough to make the turian realize that the quiet times wouldn’t last forever. His fears were validated when his company began to mine a new section of rock to expand a commercial district and discovered a strain of rare metals.

Knowing that it wouldn’t be quiet for long, Ardan quickly answered the call for a citizen militia to form by one of the more proactive members of the community, Regalus Vendaris, one of the community’s security officers, and immediately the community banded together and began running drills and training in anticipation for what came next. Within the week, a gang called the Crimson Fist arrived with a force of 30 men, who upon arrival declared that they were there to provide security for the new discovery. Anyone who had been on Omega for longer than a week know what that particular amount of double speak amounted to.

The gang was allowed into the community, uncontested, and unaware of the trap that was lying in wait for them. When the Crimson Fist arrived at the gates to the dig site, they were held up at the security gates and that’s when a firestorm erupted around them from the concealed militia; a section’s worth of ordinance was unleashed from the capable hands of military-trained turians who made short work of the Crimson Fist group, and from their bodies pried military-grade weaponry and technology to supplement their civilian and surplus arms, and the more pragmatic in the militia made arrangements with ethically-flexible doctors who needed the bodies for organs and testing purposes.

Ardan found a spark he’d been missing in his life for a few years; he’d missed the combat, the fighting alongside a fireteam. It felt good, he fight the pride and dignity seep back into his bones.

He blasted rocks for three more years. <- I also really like this line!

Granted, he trained constantly with the militia and with the new influx of credits from the mining operation and the growing population of their humble community he could afford new weapons and arms that could even make gangs with mechs and armoured support hesitate to press their luck, but a few of the dumber or more risk-loving ones took their shots, and the results weren’t much better than the Crimson Fists three years prior. Ardan found himself away from the community more and more, taking side jobs as a gun for hire or to pick up needed supplies, and it was on these excursions that Ardan began to frequent a strip club at neighbouring Rhytheia District, the Blue Oasis, and it was there he met his first, and only, wife.

In a whirlwind romance, if one could call it that, Veetsha D’alyt, an asari, and Ardan got married a week after they met in a sketchy registration office and moved into a new apartment in Rhytheia District shortly after Ardan left his job with the company and the militia behind. His quality of life was better, and he found a more martial application for his skills, and they were happy for about three months when Veetsha up and left with most of their meager belongings and left Ardan little more than a recliner, the coffee table (sans seat), the built in vidscreen in the living room wall, and his collection of sidearms and the stuffed Volus plush toy he’d deemed worth saving as a memento of his home and life back on Oma Ker. <- Marriages usually fall part for a reason, I'm kinda wondering what the reason was here? Was it his fault, was it her fault, a combination? What did they end up fighting about? Was it one big thing? Or one little thing? I don't know I feel like it would be a good addition because it would help us envision the inner dynamics of the relationship more! Ardan, not being one to flex his convictions, was back as a regular of the Blue Oasis a week later. This time, he tipped a bit less.

Without much else in the way of options, Ardan became a freelancer, often taking jobs that involved taking down smaller gangs and criminals with outfits that required a replacement set of hands, Ardan spent decades building up a name for himself as a man who could get things done to the point where he could start commanding a price. From clearing vorcha out from undercities to smuggling jobs to commando-style raids that called upon his expertise with explosives, Ardan was contented with his corner of Omega and more often than not, the turian wasn’t hard pressed to find someone who wanted to buy him a drink and offer him a side gig. When news came of his old community being overrun and Regalus dying heroically in a last stand, Ardan simply raised a glass for an old fallen comrade. Such was life on Omega.

It was around the time of the Skyllian Blitz and the subsequent assault on Torfan that Ardan came across the name and associated reputation of Kolya and the Achilles, which Ardan learned was named after a legendary human warrior whose apparent legacy was being slang for having terrible ankles and weaknesses. Despite his misgivings towards the young captain's species in general, any mercenary worth their carapace in the Terminus had to be able to set aside prejudices for lucrative jobs and keeping your name on people's minds as someone who is reliable and doesn't complicate missions due to their personal egos.

Deciding that Kolya's current focus of targeting pirates and other criminal elements that made a living preying on defenseless civilians, the turian reached out to Kolya to see if the captain had use for someone who was capable of single handedly taking down a frigate.

As it turns out that is a particularly transferable skill on Omega.

_{S K I L L S}
________________________________________

There's no military training more through and no culture with a deeply engrained sense of honour and duty instilled into its populace as you will find among the turians. Ardan is a product of strict turian societal obligations, an unwavering sense of duty, and years of armed service that despite his decades as a freelancer on his own terms has left him with an unrivaled sense of discipline and bearing that have lent themselves well in the numbers of skirmishes and battles he's found himself in over the years. Unflinching under fire and capable of carrying on with a calm and collected disposition, Ardan has found himself greatly at an advantage over less-experienced or trained enemies who strain under combat conditions. You can take a turian out of the military, but you cannot take the military out of a turian.

As such, Ardan's proficient and qualified with most every classification of small arm that you can find; if he hasn't seen it before, it only takes a matter of minutes before he's familiar enough with its inner workings to use it effectively, or service it. Qualified on service pistol, rifle, shotgun, and heavy ordinance, Ardan is a remarkably consistent shot with steady hands, thanks to his methodical approach to combat. While he isn't much of an assault trooper or a force recon specialist, Ardan makes up the backbone of any fireteam with precise suppressing fire and the ability to accurately launch a grenade through a head-sized hole at several hundred meters, a mixture of his own talent with such weapons and his targeting visor.

Additionally, Ardan is an exceptional demolitions expert. Much of his loadout for many missions is comprised of various forms of explosive devices from mines to plastic explosives, giving Ardan tactical flexibility to complete missions. Hot breaching is a favorite of his, as well as infrastructure sabotage. There are a number of buildings, structures, and material across the Terminus System that became little more than scrap after a visit from Ardan and whatever team he happened to be a part of at the time.

A large part of Ardan's training included emergency first aid, Extra Vehicular Activity, diving, driving, and survival. While he's likely not the best on any given team at more specialist tasks, he is more than capable of filling in voids in team composition and ensuring mission success, even if he has to improvise on the fly.

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

• Elanus Risk Control Services M-100 Grenade Launcher
  
  
  
  A force-multiplier that keeps even krogan and biotics alike humble, Ardan's proficiency with the M-100 is nothing short of awe-inspiring. There are few things Ardan loves more than a cluster of hostiles who forgot the meaning of the word "spacing", and his trusty grenade launcher is the tool he uses to teach said hostiles a particularly harsh and final lesson. While limited by the bulk of the rounds he can carry on his person or in a tactical pack, this is a weapon for "special" occasions, particularly when a fireteam is outnumbered or dealing with particularly tough opposing forces.
• Kassa Fabrication M37 Falcon
  
• Omni-blade attachment, improved heat sink, optical sight
  
  Despite his profound dislike for the Systems Alliance in general, Ardan is agnostic in his opinions when it comes to military hardware. After acquiring the Kassa Fabrication M37, Ardan quickly fell in love with the portable 25mm micro-grenade launcher due to its versatility and accuracy. Capable of destroying soft-cover, opening doors, breaking armour, and disabling light vehicles and mechs alike, the M37 is Ardan's go-to weapon. Even a pack of Vorcha think twice about rushing a man who can calmly blast limbs off and fill body cavities with shrapnel from several hundred meters.
• Elanus Risk Control Services M-3 Predator
  
• Hammerhead rounds, improved heat sink <- Plz don't give me flashbacks to ME-1 Inventory system.
  
  Ardan's old service pistol, well-used and well-loved. Despite his vast collection of handguns, this is the one that he brings into battle and it is the weapon he is most familiar with. From room clearing to VIP escort, Ardan turns to his heavy pistol when explosives are ill-advised.
• Elanus Risk Control Services Medium Guardian Armour
  
  
  
  
  "'Parvius, you're a demolitions expert. Why don't you wear heavy armour?' they ask. To that I say you carry 24 heavy grenades, a micro fabricator, 12 bricks of plastique, 3 heavy anti-vehicle mines, your service weapon, rations and medical supplies, and mission-specific gear into a combat zone. Now, go set a 30-second fuse and run out of the blast radius and tell me how you feel. I can do my damn job easier if I'm not weighed down by a bunch of armour that won't stop my organs from getting pulped if an explosion occurs next to my person anyways. Besides, ERCS actually understands turian physiology and how we move; you don't need to soak up incoming rounds if you can get to cover without exhausting yourself."
  <- It's already been established but I'm a fan of quotes.
• Ariake Technologies Stalwart-class Head's Up Display in his visor
  
  Although human-designed, it's been widely accepted that Ariake is among the best when it comes to HUDs and targeting algorithms on the market. Ardan's visor is linked with his omni-tool and his weapons' computer systems, offering visual ballistic arcs of grenades and crosshairs for his Predator. Once linked, his squadmates' locations, vitals, and weapon diagnostics are visible to him, and speech to text interfaces are available when in the middle of a deafening firefight where communication needs to be crystal clear. Before operations, Ardan downloads maps where possible, and he has incorporated a real-time marking function where whatever he has in his crosshairs will be illuminated to squadmembers and himself.
• Ariake Technologies Logic Arrest Omni-tool
  
  A reliable omnitool that does much of the computing and information processing in Ardan's visor, he uses mainly commercial programs with affordable encryption, nothing particularly tech-savvy or customized. It works when he turns it on and doesn't act up, and that's good enough for him.

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

Fortification
Proximity Mine
Fragmentation Grenade
Concussive Shot

_{PSYCH PROFILE}
________________________________________

Ardan Parvius is a classic example of a man whose entire life and beliefs were shaken to the core and responding in a less than ideal manner. Where he was once assured of the Hierarchy's supremacy and how it was a turian’s duty to fight until the enemy could no longer do so or there were no more turians left to fight, the fact that the humans breached galactic law and had put the turian military to shame during the Relay 314 Incident and the subsequent coddling the Council gave humans eroded the once ironclad faith Ardan carried in the Hierarchy. Now aimless and unsure of where his place is in the galaxy after coming from a strictly regimented society where all facets of life are assured, Ardan has had a degree of difficulty adapting to his new circumstances as a gun for hire on Omega. As a result, he is a bitter, sarcastic, and largely apathetic individual who lacks the direction or purpose that once defined him.

This has led to several career changes, an ill-advised and doomed marriage and little, if any, friends. While he is still boastful and confident to people he meets, several aspects of Ardan's personality are like a puzzle that has been dropped; several pieces don't fit where they should and the whole package isn't quite coming together. Nonetheless, he is still an extremely capable individual with several decades of combined military and mercenary experience and a talent for getting the job done. While his personality might put him at odds with his comrades, having some form of structure and leadership in his life may be exactly what he needs to get himself back on track and reclaim some sense of the purpose he had once had.

Adran is also a compulsive snacker, and a bag of nuts or other salted treats are never long away from his person. He enjoys collecting handguns and military paraphernalia as they remind him of a simpler, much happier time. A childhood toy, a stuffed volus, is one of his most cherished and sentimental belongings that now sits on a shelf in his apartment along with several other personal effects. <- I wish I had a stuffed volus... also I appreciate the work done to humanize... turianize? him here.

He possesses a degree of animosity and resentment towards Citadel Space and he harbours a lingering prejudice towards humans for being unwelcome newcomers to the galactic stage that demand far more than their station would permit, krogan for being warmongering savages that would try to conquer the galaxy the moment the genophage is lifted, quarians for being nomadic freeloaders who were more than capable of finding a new homeworld or colony in their 300 years of exile, and batarians for being utterly hostile to innocent lives and their practices in slavery and torture. However, as an operative, Ardan is capable of looking past his prejudices and working with members of most species in the galaxy and he has an easier time seeing individuals as exceptions to the rather unfortunate rule.

Despite his more self-centered approach to life and apathetic nature, Ardan still believes in order and the duties a turian must perform, and a lot of that means sticking up for people who cannot stick up for themselves and to preserve innocent lives. He has on numerous occasions risked his life to protect a non-combatant, regardless of species. While he is very much a typical product of Omega, he still adheres to a personal code of conduct.

_{T R A I T S}
________________________________________

Positive Traits

Disciplined
Reliable
Ethical

Negative Traits

Arrogant
Prejudiced
Belligerent

_{V I C E S}
________________________________________

Gambling

Ardan finds it hard to resist a strategically located Quasar machine; out of all of the gambling options, he finds Quasar statistically the most likely to cash out for him and there have been more than a few regrettable nights and lost pay to one of the cursed machines, which Ardan looks at with the same concentration as when he's defusing or arming some kind of high explosive device. He's ahead in earnings, but not by much; it's just enough for him to delude himself into thinking he's almost got the system figured out to his benefit.

Strip Clubs

Or; How I Met Your Mother.

Ardan's first an only wife was a stripper, which was a doomed relationship from the start. Any relationship starting off with a financial transaction and copious amounts of alcohol are already an uphill battle, and Ardan's normally meticulous personality didn't see the red flags until his wife cleared him out. This set back didn't change his habits, however, and he frequents such establishments between missions, perhaps to offer himself the illusion he's likeable and charming, or to forget his loneliness and isolation brought upon by his impulsive self-exile from his friends, family, and unit.

Military Surplus Markets

The nice part of the Terminus Systems is old military shipments and equipment find themselves scattered around virtually everywhere without regulations. Almost without fail, Ardan will scour the various kiosks and shops looking for peripheral or storied handguns that he is searching for to complete his collection. He might tell you he really needs a cold-forged entrenching tool, the personal handgun of an obscure admiral, a signed poster Blasto sent to the troops, and a three-century old banner from a storied combat regiment, but he doesn't. He really doesn't.

Claw Games

The bane of his childhood and an ongoing fixation well into his middle-age, Ardan has spent more credits than he'll ever admit trying to win a stupid prize from one of these contraptions. Ever since he won his prized stuffed Volus, Ardan has been trying for a stuffed Elcor and Hanar to join the Volus without any such luck. Usually his sense of pride will keep him from attempting something he knows will likely be rigged, but get a few drinks into him and the nostalgia goggles come out.

_{H A U N T}
________________________________________

The Armoury

Comfortable enough lurking aboard a turian-made vessel (clearly, the captain has excellent tastes in craftsmanship and capability), Ardan was never a naval crewman and as such, the inner workings of anything without a gun bore and a targeting system is outside of his wheelhouse. However, as a veteran of both the Relay 314 Incident and a number of hired gun contracts, Ardan knows his way around most small arms and heavy weapons that are commonly flooding Omega's markets and finds himself rather indispensable as something of an authority on maintaining and operating just about anything a crew mate brings to "The Pit", where he serves as the de facto armourer between missions.

Being the mission demolition expert and someone who fusses over his gear like a teenager fusses over their first skycar, Ardan is loathed to think of anyone handling his expensive and immaculate combat inventory without his presence and as such has entrusted himself to give similar attention to detail to whatever weapons the mercenaries have at their disposal. Between optimization, calibration, cleaning and other small performance tweaks and refinements, Ardan is a big reason that a gun goes bang every time the trigger is pulled and old and neglected bits of hardware don't get jammed mid-deployment.

His prized Volus plushie and signed Blasto poster adorn this work space, and he has a drawer dedicated to whatever snacks he can pick up on shore leave.

_{D R I V E}
________________________________________

Ardan has struggled to accept that the galaxy is changing with the introduction of humanity, and being unable to accept that his people's place in the galaxy has changed somewhat has haunted him ever since he was young. He was raised to believe that the turians were the stalwart guardians of the galaxy, and in his eyes the failure at the Relay 314 incident and the subsequent acceptance of humanity into the Citadel changed everything for him. Thinking his government as foolish, and the council as orchestrating the biggest shame in its history, Ardan's entire mercenary career and a life in the Terminus System has left him bitter and without purpose. <- Sounds like me after freshman year #sadlol

Ardan wants to feel the same sense of belonging and purpose that had once defined him and his convictions that he doesn't know why he clings to, but being surrounded by cutthroats and scum without a code of ethics and conduct have left him jaded and believing that the galaxy is rotten to the core. Regardless, he stands up for those who cannot stand up for themselves, and knowing that his individual actions can change the lives of even a few people is filling a part of that void that has dominated his spirit for years now.

He knows he will never be able to go back to his home or family, but he still feels this lingering sense of longing for simpler times and companionship that has eluded him. Despite his misgivings and personal faults, he holds onto his convictions and presses forward, holding out hope that some day he'll be able to look in the mirror and see someone he can be proud of. <- As the kid's would say that is a very big mood! Also I like relatable goals!

Overall this is a very good sheet!

One aesthetic thing is teal font is kinda hard to read sometimes so you might want to change it, but that's really up to you!

Everything is pretty solid. Really, my only request would to be maybe expand on some of those things that I mentioned in the history section. It isn't completely necessary and I feel that in its current state, the sheet would have no problems standing on its own. But I also think that expanding on those lines of thought and ideas, or even just thinking about them for a bit will help you have a better overall feeling of who Ardan is and where he is coming from!

Mass Effect: Renegade

@Inkarnate
Nope! As mentioned previously, the haunts section is effectively you guys telling me what is on the ship, not the other way around! In this way, I hope it will help everyone feel more connected to the Achilles, because they helped make it.