Game Mass Effect: Eradication

[Cardun Vrek]

IC: Veloc Torv

Docking Bay, Port Hanshan, Noveria

Torv grumbles under his breath as he picks up the compacted Geth and carries it towards the ship.

If I need to carry this thing through every goddamn port we land at, I’m charging the human double.

He continues to grumble throughout the elevator ride, suppressing an urge to ‘drop’ the Geth into the shaft. Didn’t all aliens think Krogan were nothing but clumsy brutes anyway? He could’ve probably gotten away with it if it had been Salarians he was stuck with. But the human would probably have seen through the ruse.

Damn humans.

As they make their way into the dock, Torv chuckles at Knox as the human shivers. “If you humans can’t stand the cold, why did you build a colony on an ice-cube?” He asks jokingly, not expecting an answer as he took in the breeze. It was still cold, but not cold enough to worry a Krogan, at least for a time. Torv stops for a moment to take in the ship, and shakes his head.

No damn weapons that I can see, and it stands out like a Pyjack in a Varren den. Fucking humans…

“You want to go chasing after Batarian slavers in this…pleasure yacht? You do know slavers like to fit weapons on their ships, right? And this one looks like it might actually have a small fortune onboard. And,” he begins to pace back and forth, gesticulating with his arms, waving the disguised Geth around violently as he did so. “It’s far too small…I need…space. I don’t like being cooped up in a tiny tin can. And how am I supposed to get my Varren in that thing? Trox needs space too.” He asks frustratedly.

TAG: @Darth Kain, @corinthia, @Hadzuska_The Jester, @Darth Sedicious, @Voidwalker

 

[Darth Sedicious]

IC: Stygian Vard
Location: Port Hanshan, Noveria

Stygian smiled and thought to himself, as with biotics one may think to others— 'Ah, so he did see what I had done. Perhaps my powers of prediction, my own logic, were not so damaged during the Sovereign attack.'

"Not to worry, my friend," for they would all best work together if they were friends.
"I'll make sure this operation of yours stays covert." He understood the idiom just fine, having worked with so many people of so many species, especially humans.

With all the installation of a killer instinct that fighting does to one, and what seeing evil done to the ones one loves to expedite that, Stygian was pleasantly surprised that Knox had asked for the better of the two paths for the future. It would have been logical enough to simply kill him, and Stygian would gave understood and done so himself if needed be. There must always be sacrifice and no one on the forefront to saviordom must be cowardly when it comes to making those sacrifices.

And yet a better path had been lit, for only a moment, with such a small gesture. And Knox remembered it, and used that knowledge to choose a better future, a future more complete, one where a child did not lose its way and hurl itself unto the razor wire of wicked work as a criminal, angry with the universe for taking one of the two things he loved most in this world. It was the sort of thing only found in the turian myths, of stories of their great paragons of virtue.

Of course, perhaps all that was done was simply allow an abusive tub of pyjak shit to come home and beat its wife. It was always a possibility, a risk that one must always accept must be taken. For it was the outlier, not the rule. Perhaps he was abusive, and such an encounter with death—as Stygian would spin another one to take the place of the one that had just happened in the turian's mind—would cause a reconciliation with the two.

It didn't matter.

It was out of their hands to decide.

"Hey there."
Words augmented the weight and power of mental manipulation. Without them, such techniques were less likely to succeed in the long run, and last for only a short time.
"Good job keeping your buddies safe from the slavers for as long as you could. You couldn't save them, you know, but everyone knows that, and we are so proud of you for trying anyway. And for that, you have a life to live now. Don't be prideful of it. Stay humble, tell no others, for the only one who needs to know it is you and me. Live your life for the ones you love. You have time now.

"And damn it!"
He slapped the turian's head lightly, more like a fast touch than an actual slap, so as to not awake him and affect the manipulation.
"Think before you do things, everything you do. And put your family, your spouse and children when you have them if you don't already, above all else."
He had to get going. The unconsciousness provided a luxury, one of extended manipulation if his powers would grant it. But he needed to keep time.

"Maybe someday I'll see you again."
He placed his hands on the turian's head for direct connection to the mind.

"Tell me about your life when you see me. You don't know what I look like, or even how I actually sound now, but you will know it's me when you see me, I'm sure."

'Gee I hope that doesn't backfire,' Stygian states mentally, accepting it just might.

And thus Stygian began his attempt to change his mind, to spin his words into reality within the turian's mind. And if he failed twice, for he would try again once if he could not properly enact it, then the goodbye would be warm, painted in what the humans called "humanity" as much as it would be in blood.

Powers Attempted:

Dominate - 1 (attempting to change the turian's mind about what happened)

Tags: @Darth Kain, @Cardun Vrek, @corinthia, @Hadzuska_The Jester, @Voidwalker,

 

[Darth Kain]

GM Update - tiny combo from @Cardun Vrek

IC: Cabal Knox
Aboard the Persephone, Noveria

​

A raised brow from Knox was shot at Torv. “Aria didn’t mention you having a pet. Where is it?”

“Trox is back on Omega. Probably killed at least half a dozen Vorcha whilst I’ve been gone. Such a good boy. Makes his old man proud.”

That was enough to get a chuckle from Cabal, who clearly did not seem very fond of Vorcha either. Then again, who in the galaxy was fond of them? Not even the Vorcha liked the Vorcha. “Well, it’s a good thing that Omega is our first stop, then. Don’t worry about the space, by the way. Or the weaponry. It’s bigger on the inside.”

Deciding that none of these aliens would get the reference, Knox chose not to wait for any reaction to the joke before ascending that frigid boarding ramp, stepping inside the airlock that rested between them and the interior of the Persephone. The others no doubt followed, allowing the ramp to retract back inside the ship before closing the door behind them. A pneumatic hiss signalled the seal between them and the cold of Noveria was complete. A light passed over them, raising the hairs of those that had them, and sending a strange sensation of electricity across the skin of those that didn’t.

“Stand by; decontamination commencing.” The voice of this virtual intelligence was female in nature, sounding as robotic and lifeless as one would expect from your standard fare VI.

And then the airlock opened, allowing them inside. Whether or not any of them actually had understood the human’s reference or not, they’d all realize that he had not been kidding. At least, not entirely. The walls and floors were clean and in almost pristine condition, as if this ship had barely been used. The cockpit was to their left, and standing in the doorway between the party and the pilot’s seat was the pilot himself.

Knox motioned to the man. “Everyone, meet Ace. He’s the one that’ll be flying us around, so treat him nice. Don’t want to wake up to find out he set the ship on autopilot towards a star before bailing on us.”

“That only ever happened one time, Knox. Don’t hold it over me,” the drell joked. He was handsome for a drell, if one could find them wholly attractive. His skin was dry and violet, and his eyes were almost empty pools of black. But there was a certain charm in his smile, like he knew how to steer a conversation just as well as a frigate.

To their right was a corridor, leading further into the ship’s common room. A long steel table sat in the center of the room, with ten chairs surrounding it and a live projector in the center of the table, displaying a holographic view of their place in the galaxy. Noveria was displayed in the center, the name of it floating just above and alternating between languages every few seconds. The rest of the common area held couches and lounge furniture to relax on, and trophies of Knox’s exploits adorned the walls. Paintings from asari and quarian galleries, turian polearms, and even a krogan warhammer hung around the room.

Past the common area was a stairwell, but on either side of it were doorways leading to the ship’s medbay on the right and the ship’s kitchen on the left. In that kitchen was a Salarian woman, older and even frailer than the usual members of her species. But there was a certain warmth around her, and that wasn’t even including the stovetop that she was preparing some stir-fry on.

“And this is Mama Meetra,” said Knox. “I hired her a couple of years ago as a personal chef, and she’s stuck with me through thick and thin since. What’s on the menu today?”

She gave a kind smile. “I’ve been preparing some dextro-safe and levo-safe dishes for you all as a welcoming gift. Turian cuisine is so pragmatic and practical, yet krogan cuisine is surprisingly diverse despite the lack of variance in edible subspecies on Tuchanka. I hope none of you ate a big lunch today, dears.”

The medbay seemed devoid of an actual doctor, instead utilizing an automatic care system operated by the ship’s VI. It was a newer model, able to handle more advanced surgeries on multiple different species in case the worst came to pass. But it seemed to keep the place even more sanitized than any organic could hope to match, which seemed a plus. Just don’t ask for any bedside manners.

Down the stairs led to the engine core, where it seemed that it too was also monitored by the VI. It was a standard design for a ship of this kind, though built to be quieter to keep the rest of the ship from being deafeningly loud.

And finally, up the stairs led to a balcony that overlooked the common area, with walkways on either side leading to everyone’s personal quarters. The rooms were no larger than studio apartments, but had a nice, clean yet cozy feel to them, with viewports showing a clear view of what lay outside the Persephone, which now was only the near-blinding blizzard of Noveria. They also came with their own personal restrooms, which was a big step up from most ships of this size.

“Feel free to choose your rooms and get comfortable. We’ll be heading to Omega to pick up a couple more passengers, plus any gear you guys need, before moving on to an informant I need to meet on Illium. Get settled in. It’ll be a long ride.”

TAGS: @corinthia , @Cardun Vrek , @Darth Sedicious , @Voidwalker , @Hadzuska_The Jester

OOC: Stygian’s usage of Dominate rolls an 18 +1 for a total of 19, successfully altering the turian’s perception of recent events and implanting new desires for the future. Though Stygian has no way of knowing he succeeded since the turian guard is unconscious.

I will be taking a break from posting GM Updates for this game until around January 2nd, partially to give everyone a break for the holidays (since getting timely responses is growing thinner this time of year) and partially to give @dragonsith13 and @Darth Voxyn time to send me their character sheets so they can join us in the fun! Happy Holidays, everyone.

 

[dragonsith13]

GM Approved

​

Name: Rassar Plo
Nicknames/Aliases: none
Age: 97
Sex: Unknown
Species: Volus
Orientation (optional): Unknown
Homeworld: Irune
Occupation: Advisor and procurer of items and information
Height: 3’1”
Weight: 102 lbs

Physical Description: Rassar’s physical appearance is irrelevant as very few if any outside of the actual Volus race know what a Volus in fact looks like…
Clothing: Nothing more than his protective environmental suit
Weapons: None
Equipment: combat drone, Omni-tool, Environmental protective suit. For aesthetics Rassar has adopted a black with white trimmed coloring scheme on what would be considered the standard Volus environmental protective suit. It is nondescript and looks the same as any other suit someone of his race would wear. The suit has been modified to have the capabilities and strength of what would be considered medium armor, hence affording Rassar considerable protection over what would be considered the “standard” volus environmental suit.

Vehicles: Light freighter - Cassept
The Cassept is a nondescript small freighter Rassar uses for personal transport only when necessary, since he prefers to hire his transport. He maintains and berths the ship at the Citadel for emergency use only. Despite being a small freighter, the capabilities of the Cassept are considerably augmented, including dampening fields, enhanced sensor suite, and advanced countermeasures. Preferring to use the vessel to slip by undisturbed, since the vessel in fact has no offensive weapons, relying on its nondescript nature to allow it to come and go as it pleases. The freighter has been known to partake in transportation voyages since the hold is large enough for a small amount of heavy cargo, equally the hold can be used to house a small number of personnel. The normal crew size of the Cassept is two, however the ship has been automated to run with only one if necessary and even on its own from time to time.
Pets (if applicable): N/A
Languages: Iperian Volus, Galactic
Combat Skills: Rassar does not possess any physical combat skills
Other Strengths: Rassar has the adept ability of acquiring things. Information. Equipment. People. Items of nearly any nature. Additionally, Rassar is keen on gathering intel before and during any situation as much as possible. His extensive network also affords him a good line of communication in nearly any environment or situation. Rassar has also invested considerable time and credits into his omni-tool and slicing skills to allow him to “obtain” information when needed. Finally Rassar with his effective connections and contacts has a unique ability to recruit, and employ people, whether it be informant or mercenaries to causes.

Flaws: No-physical prowess, inability to part with the galactic game of finance and manipulation, since to the volus this is an almost addictive adventure, pitting themselves against the rest of the galaxy while having incredible small-species complexes
Alignment: Neutral - the highest bidder
Personality: None, he is Volus.
Fears: Losing his focus - not having access to his network
Likes: Anyone or thing that bring him a decent return on investment
Dislikes: Anyone or thing that rings him a bad return on investment
Habits: Asari love dens - rigging quasar machines - counting his credits
Relationships/Love Interests: None, though there is a rumor that Rassar was infatuated with a certain Asari consultant in the service of the Asari Consort in the Presidium District. Though anyone with knowledge of this rumor when asked about it declines to share details citing a enforced NDA contract
Friendships: Rassar does not maintain and friendships, merely associates, business partners, and subordinates
Reputation: Shrewd, terse, ill-tempered, business first
Biography: Rassar grew up like the majority of Volusn on Irune, following the normal path that most of his species does, the dull education and promotion of their inherent skills. While Rassar excelled in these standard prodings and promotion of galactic finance and manipulation which is the backbone of their standing in Citadel space. He also took an interstate in the darker machinations of espionage and smuggling, both of which could be considered mere subsets of the galactic machinations skillset of many volus. Still his adeptness allowed him to silently separate himself from his peers while remaining under the radar of the larger and more dangerous operators such as the Shadowbroker. That is to say, while his presence was not unknown, his operations and allotted tribute to the Shadowbroker allowed him to continue to operate as he wished, even to the extent that he would take on jobs and taskings, coordination efforts from the Shadowbroker and subjugate agents. To the point that one from the outside looking in one would question if Rassar was in the employment or umbrella of the Shadowbroker. In fact one has to theorize that one never truly knows that they are in fact working for the Shadowbroker, even if they are or are not working for the Shadowbroker due to the nature of how such activities are conducted. Regardless, Rassar maintains his business dealings and conducts himself accordingly while maintaining presence on the Citadel in the business district to offer his “services” to anyone willing to pay.


Level: 1 (8 skill 3 power)
Class:
Engineer

Skills:
Medium Armor -1
Piloting -1
Medicine -1

Powers:
Dampening -1
Combat Drone -1
Invasion -1

 

[Darth Voxyn]

Name: Tanix Spyros
Age: 30
Sex: Male
Species: Drell
Orientation: Heterosexual
Homeworld: Kahje
Occupation: Mercenary, Big Game Hunter
Height: 6ft
Weight: 195lbs
Physical Description: tall, lean muscular, scales are colored a brown gray mix
Clothing: Light Armor, civilian clothing
Weapons: M-11 Suppressor, M-96 Mattock, M-97 Viper
Equipment: medi gel, omni tool, animal bait, big ass knife
Vehicles: personal shuttle
Languages: Drell
Combat Skills: Tanixs’ preferred method of combat is to take a sniping position where he can provide cover for others on a mission or take out a target but is also well trained with pistols, assault rifles, and close combat to be better suited for a wider mission selection.
Other Strengths: very patient, possessed the Drell eidetic memory,
Flaws: is a sarcastic smart ass, gets snarky when tired
Alignment: Lawful Neutral
Personality: Tanix is a calm and patient individual who prefers to be a sarcastic smart ass when interacting with others.
Fears: catching Kepral's Syndrome, the Krogan Poet
Likes: money, hunting
Dislikes: prolonged stays on very wet planets, animal rights activists, hearing people chew their food, poetry
Habits: chews his nails when irritated or nervous
Friendships: the Krogans of Clan Drau
Reputation: is a well known big game hunter and skilled mercenary. Gained the respect of the Krogan of Clan Drau by killing a Thrasher Maw.
Biography: Tanix was born and grew up on Kahje. When Tanix was 13 his mother died of Kepral’s Syndrome and his father struggled to provide for him and his brother. To try to help Tanix would go out hunting and fishing for food for the family, sometimes at the expense of his education. When he was old enough he signed up for military service, he made several friends there and became a skilled sniper. After his time in the military ended he had earned enough money that he bought himself a personal shuttle and set out to explore the galaxy as a freelance mercenary and a big game hunter. He eventually traveled to Tuchanka planning to hunt a Thrasher Maw. He first encountered the Krogans of Clan Drau who thought the idea of him managing to kill a Thrasher Maw was ridiculous, so they pointed him in the direction he needed to go to find one and assumed that would be the last of him, they were rather surprised when he not only returned but returned successfully, he gained their respect and friendship from that. Since then he has just been traveling the galaxy and sending some of the money he makes back to his family on Kahje.

Level: 1
Class: Soldier
Skills:

• Snipers 1
• Assault Rifle 1
• Pistols 1
• Piloting 1
• Melee Weapons 1
• Hand to Hand Combat 1
• Driving 1
• Medicine 1

Powers:

• Trophy System 1
• Barricade 1
• Flak Cannon 1

 

[Darth Kain]

GM Update

IC: Cabal Knox
The Persephone

​

A quiet had fallen across the Persephone. Peace. A calm that he had not experienced in weeks. Preparing for this had been a constant, crucial exercise. Every detail had to be perfected and every pawn needed to be put in place. Perhaps the only pawn he’d enjoyed duping was that Asari Administrator back on Noveria. At least they’d had some fun before he locked her in his room to give that Geth the window he needed.

But now he was resting on his laurels, if only for the moment. His room rested towards the front of the ship, and had been locked for the past hour of their trip. The viewport displayed naught but the rushing of the stars as they swirled past, the faster-than-light travel of the Persephone having been gifted by a Mass Effect Relay what felt like an eternity ago. The trip from Noveria to Omega wasn’t necessarily meant to be a long one, but that never stopped time from dragging on when you had little in the way of meaningful entertainment. Every book on his personal shelf had been read, and every show on his datapad seemed to just be a remake of a classic but with an all-alien cast. All that’d occupied him was a frighteningly-short cigarette and daydreaming of the day he’d get his hands on those goddamned Batarians.

A day that would come sooner than he realized.

There was a buzz that came over the intercom, a sign that Mama Meetra had prepped the dining table and food was on its way out. Taking one last drag, Knox snuffed the light of his cigarette in a nearby ashtray. Hiring Ace as their pilot had been a luxury, but Mama Meetra’s cooking made hiring her a necessity.

Downstairs in the common room, Knox was the first to arrive. He sat at the head of the table, where a piping-hot bowl of vegetable stew sat waiting for him. Ah, a classic.

Waiting for Torv was a well-cooked fish, descaled and nearly the size of a full loaf of bread, with a side of korkro. High-quality nutrient paste sat on the table for Reezka, pre-seasoned and imported straight from the Flotilla, though Knox made sure that Meetra wouldn’t mention that last part. Stygian was going to be offered Palaven-style dumplings, though Knox wasn’t even sure someone that was so much machine still even ate food. And for Thalia, a fresh bowl of calamari gumbo. Though it was human-made, it had been based on an asari recipe, so Meetra believed it would be equal parts new and nostalgic.

They were all free to avoid their first lunch together if they decided. But that’d just mean more food for Knox. Well, everything except that paste; that could get spaced for all he cared.

TAGS: @corinthia , @Darth Sedicious , @Voidwalker , @Cardun Vrek , @Hadzuska_The Jester

OOC: Welcome back, guys! Sorry it took longer than expected. This first GM Update I’ll give you guys an extra week on so we can get back in the swing of things, and then it’s right back to weekly updates. Let’s have some fun!

 

[Cardun Vrek]

IC: Veloc Torv
The Persephone

Ship’s too damn clean. This thing hasn’t seen combat. We park this thing in a docking bay on Omega the scavs will have it picked apart in no time.


Torv followed Knox onboard without saying a word. He merely glanced around, taking in his surroundings. It still felt too small. Cramped. Big enough for humans, but not for a Krogan. Knox introduced them to their pilot, who was a Drell. Torv had never worked directly with Drell, but he’d heard good things. They were good fighters, and according to some of the mercs he’d worked with they had scarily good memories, which meant it was never a good idea to get drunk around them. Torv supposed that kind of thing would be good for a pilot though. Probably. Knox continued the tour, and again, Torv found himself shaking his head in annoyance. This ship felt more like a pleasure yacht than a ship that was meant to help them take down a notorious Batarian slaver.

Where’s the armoury? Where’s the fucking GUNS, for fucks sake? If we actually find these slavers they’ll fry us in an instant. Damn it.

But that wasn’t the most annoying thing about Knox’s ship. That was the presence of a Salarian. A goddamn, bug eyed, flat faced, genophage using, species destroying, asshole, bastard fucking Salarian fucker.

HE EXPECTS ME TO EAT SALARIAN FOOD? FUCKING HUMAN PIECE OF SHIT!

Torv gave this ‘Mama Meetra’ a look of complete contempt as she spoke, having to try extremely hard to stop himself ripping her head off then and there. He didn’t even catch what she was saying. He could hear his Krogan blood boiling. Torv stomped along after Knox as the tour reached its end, not even listening anymore. He wanted to hit something, no, he *needed* to hit something.

“Feel free to choose your rooms and get comfortable. We’ll be heading to Omega to pick up a couple more passengers, plus any gear you guys need, before moving on to an informant I need to meet on Illium. Get settled in. It’ll be a long ride.” Knox said, and Torv simply marched into the nearest room he could see, the first room on the right walkway. He dropped the Geth before he entered, forgetting that he even had been carrying it. His gear that he had handed into the customs upon entering port Hanshan was waiting for him. He picked up his weapons and examined them, checking for damage.

“Hmph. At least they had the brains not to mess with my stuff.” He grumbled to himself before placing both the assault rifle and shotgun on a nearby shelf. He began pacing back and forth in the room. He couldn’t help it. He was angry. The very presence of a Salarian on the ship made him angry. Add to that his continued worries about the Asari…

Shit. This goddamn ship is too small. I NEED TO-I NEED TO- ARRGHHHHH!!!

The rage came over him before he even realised, and he found himself sitting on the floor, somewhat dazed. There was now a large dent in the clean, previously untouched wall where he had headbutted it in a fit of rage.

“Ah. Crap. Hope he doesn’t charge me for it.” He grunted, shaking his head a few times to get rid of the stars he was seeing. He needed to write, to compose, to take his mind off of this crap. Either that or he needed a glass of Ryncol. But his Magnum Opus was still on Omega. The Kroganiad. The epic poem detailing the Rachni Wars and the Rebellions, one which he had been working on for years. It was to be his triumph, his rallying call for the Krogan people to rise up and band together. But for now, he would have to make do with simply sitting in this dull, tiny, sterile room.

An hour passed, during which Torv disassembled and then reassembled his M1-Claymore. He was just about to grab his assault rifle when he sat up, sniffing the air.

Fish…it smells so good. And it's just the kind I-

But, no. It was being made by a Salarian.

Bitch has probably poisoned it. Damn Salarians don’t think their life is complete unless they’ve killed a Krogan, or doomed my entire species to die off. But…it smells so damn good.

He heard a buzz, but he was following his nose. He made his way down to the common room to find Knox sitting at the table in front of a plate of stew. A large fish and a side of Korkro had been placed at one of the places at the table. Torv tentatively stepped forward and sat down.

“Knox.” He said almost absent-mindedly to the human as he eyed up the fish and korkro on his plate, almost waiting for something to pop out and attack him. He tore off a small piece of the fish and placed it in his mouth.

Holy shit.

Without even thinking, he began to rip into it, devouring every last delicious piece. The korkro tasted just as good as the fish. Within only a few minutes, his plate was entirely empty.

“Well…at least this Salarian is good for…something.” He begrudgingly admitted, coming out of his almost trance like state.

“But that doesn’t mean I’m happy about having one on-” his words were interrupted by a belch, and he pounded on his chest before finishing his sentence, wagging a fat finger at Knox “-board.”

Damn it, that was some good fish.

TAG: @Darth Kain, @corinthia , @Darth Sedicious , @Voidwalker , @Hadzuska_The Jester

 

[corinthia]

IC: Reezka
Aboard the Persephone
​

She has to admit... the cleanliness of the ship is an unexpected comfort. Even though Omega's a crusty shithole, and even though she loves it anyway, being quarian meant Reezka appreciates a certain degree of clean living. Every inch of the Persephone seems pristine. And with the luxury of a private room... Reezka even wonders if she might be able to make this her very own clean-room, where she could maybe, in the very least, remove her faceplate and breathe a little freer. If-- and it was a big if-- this stupid fuckin' job worked out. She still has her doubts.

As the familiar and comforting lull of FTL thrums around her, Reezka is sitting cross-legged on the bed, animatedly recording a video message on her omni-tool to send to her beloved Hercy as soon as they're back in tightbeam range, detailing (with embellishment) the story of securing this million-credit job.

"...And I told the human that he better fuckin' treat us right. I had a pistol in his face, and damn, if he wasn't wrapped around my finger. Prolly could have made him shake his ass for me if I wanted. But you know, baby, the only ass I want is yours. Anyway, we'll be stopping on Omega before we jet off for this job so you better give me lots of good luck kisses, Hercy."

Over the intercom, a buzz. Reezka looks up, vaguely annoyed by the interruption. She scoffs. "I better go, loves. Human wants our attention." She waves at the camera, blows a kiss or three. "See you soon, baby. Love you."

Shutting off the recording and saving it to her omni-tool, she hops up off the bed, and with a practiced hand replaces all her weapons in their respective spots on her suit-- pistol in thigh holster, daggers in arm band, shotgun across the small of her back, sniper slung across her back on its carry strap. Even just stepping out the door of this private room into the common areas of this ship... she feels the need to be prepared. She follows the others out of the barracks and to the dining hall, where a spread of food has been laid out for them all (and for her, nutri-paste). Sidling up to the table, she perches on her assigned seat, tucking one leg under herself.

She squints at everyone gathered with suspicion, feeling that same irascibility bubbling up that she felt when she'd trained that pistol on Cabal Knox. The hulking krogan was chowing down on his fish (Reezka gags a little), and Knox was sitting before a steaming bowl of colorful veggie stew. Incredulously, she picks up her tube of paste between thumb and forefinger. "This vegan?" she asks, giving it a shake at Knox.

TAG:
@Darth Kain, @Cardun Vrek , @Darth Sedicious , @Voidwalker , @Hadzuska_The Jester​

 

[Darth Cold]

IC: Genesis Anomaly
Location: The Persephone

Torv had finally dropped Genesis, unnecessarily rough, but it was a Krogan, delicate wasn’t really in their vocabulary. He unfurled himself from his case form, and located the nearest workshop. He needed to fix the damage received on Noveria before it began to affect him too much. If there were enough parts, he might begin work on another secret project, alongside whatever else might be needed to be put together for Knox afterwards.

TAG: @corinthia @Cardun Vrek @Darth Sedicious @Voidwalker @Darth Kain

 

[Voidwalker]

IC: Thalia
The Persephone

Thalia had found her room at the end of the tour, and double checked all of her gear that she had turned in. So far so good, everything seemed to be in order. Still she felt the need to disassemble all of her weapons and double check everything to make sure no funny business has been at hand. It was bad enough she had to use a borrowed weapon earlier, it would be hell for anyone that tried to fuck with her gear. All in all no one had to die....yet. If that asshole Knox thought about double crossing them on this deal, well the idea of what would happen brought a devilish smile to her face.

For about an hour, she laid in her bed. She had nothing better to do until the got back to Omega, but once she was back she knew she had to speak with Aria, there was just so much she didn't trust about Knox and his story. She wanted answers, but it would have to wait. Her stomach grumbled, reminding her of how long it had been since she'd eaten last. It seemed like days. Luckily it wasn't long before the intercom buzzed. Thalia got up, leaving her room, and following the others into a dining quarter.

As she sat at the table, the Salarian cook presented Thalia with a bowl of calamari gumbo. It looked and smelled good enough. But what did this Salarian know about Asari cuisine? Still, her stomach was rumbling and she needed to eat. From the first taste of the spoon hitting her lips, Thalia was amazed. It tasted so fucking good! It wasn't like back home but it was delicious in its own right. She couldn't stop herself from taking another bite and another. Before she knew it the entire bowl was empty.

"Is there any more of that? I'm hungrier than a fucking Krogan warlord!"

Tag:
@Darth Kain, @Cardun Vrek, @corinthia, @Darth Sedicious, @Hadzuska_The Jester

 

[Darth Sedicious]

IC: Stygian Vard
Location: Persephone

Stygian peeked down to the dumplings, something he'd been ignoring. He lifted it to his mouth, tasteless as everything had been since the attack on the Citadel.

Something was on his mind. His clothes fit a little tighter than they had before. His cane felt a little lighter, his turian hood-band sat less heavy on his head.

Experience had been written into his muscles, to his mind. The machinery enhanced itself with new information, adapted. Remembered...

Suddenly, like a rapist in the night, hunger—no, a craving overtook him. For something good. Something savory.

"Can I have some of what the poet's having?"

Tags:
@Darth Kain, @Cardun Vrek, @corinthia, @Hadzuska_The Jester, @Voidwalker

 

[Darth Kain]

GM Update

IC: Cabal Knox, Mama Meetra, and Ace Spyros
The Persephone

​

Knox smiled as Torv begrudgingly devoured his meal like a starved pyjak, even smiling through the old Krogan’s prejudicial insult to their lovely cook. Thankfully, she hadn’t heard him speaking over the sound of him scarfing down the food she’d made.

“If you’ll ever be happy about having a Salarian around, it’d be her,” said Knox, pointing his spoon in her direction over by the kitchen. He’d been savoring his stew perhaps the slowest of the others here. The robustness of the tomato, the soft crunch of the broccoli, the sweetness of the carrot… all were exploding in Knox’s mouth like a fireworks display of flavor. He didn’t know what Meetra threw in her food, but it seemed that everything she produced was a masterpiece.

The quarian had pulled his attention away from his food long enough for him to hear her ask if the nutrient paste was vegan. But before he could give an answer, Mama Meetra was already arriving with a closed, metal tray, its contents obscured. She gave a polite smile to Reezka and nodded. “I sourced it myself, dear. No animals or animal products came anywhere near what’s packed in there, and to top it off it’s not that bland paste you’re probably used to. Quarians shouldn’t have to go without flavor just because of their predicament.”

However, when Thalia and Stygian chirped up, Meetra found herself a bit surprised. More for Stygian than Thalia, anyway. She had expected requests for seconds, and already had prepared in the case of such a thing. But she did not expect the Turian to ask for a different meal entirely. That had caught her off-guard.

But she corrected her posture and smiled. “Of course, dears.” She set down the tray, lifting the lid and revealing an assortment of the dishes they’d already eaten, divided by miniature steel walls and sealed with another layer of lid, though these were some form of hardened, transparent plastic. She placed another bowl of the calamari gumbo before Thalia, and then took one of the fish that had initially been meant for Torv and put it on a fresh plate, sliding it in front of Stygian. Thankfully for the old Krogan, there were still a few other fish in case he too was still hungry.

Their meals went on for a few more uninterrupted minutes, with Meetra returning to the kitchen to begin loading dishes into the washer. Meanwhile, Genesis was on the floor above, finding a workshop towards the rear of the ship, through a doorway behind the balcony that the stairs originally led them to. There were enough parts to make the necessary repairs to his hardware, fully restoring him to his original state before he’d gotten on Noveria. But it seemed they were lacking much of anything beyond what he’d already used. Thankfully, Omega was known for its cheap scrap and parts if one knew where to look. He’d just have to be careful that no one on board the station would decide to scrap him instead, what with Geth still being just as feared on Omega as they were in the rest of the galaxy beyond the Perseus Veil.

Back in the common area, Knox finally finished the last of his stew, followed by the others completing their second courses. Mama Meetra had certainly made a better first impression than he had; perhaps if she could still fire a gun properly, she should’ve been the one to assemble the crew in the first place.

After patting the corners of his mouth with a napkin, he let out a sigh. “Well, we should be--”

The Persephone’s intercom crackled to life once more, though this time there was a voice that soon followed the sound; the Drell pilot’s it seemed. “Exiting FTL now. We should be at the station in five.”

Knox stood from his seat, sliding it in and giving a nod to the others. “Grab your gear and be at the airlock in five minutes, then. I have something to give our robotic friend so we don’t piss off every organic on Omega.”

He traveled up the stairs ahead of the others, and after hearing the telltale sign of tinkering coming from the workshop, decided to open the door and poke his head in. As he suspected, Genesis was there, applying the last of his repairs. Knox reached into his pocket and produced a device no larger than the size of a hockey puck. He offered it to the Geth, saying, “Here. Old tech but it should work well for you. A cloaking device. Not as effective as the modern variant, but it lasts longer and Omega’s pretty dark anyway. It’ll start vibrating when it’s low on charge. If you’ve got any business to take care of while you’re here, then use it and stick to the shadows. I don’t want another Noveria incident if we can avoid it.”

TAGS: @corinthia, @Darth Sedicious, @Voidwalker, @Hadzuska_The Jester, @Cardun Vrek

IC: Breeke
Market District, Omega


​

“Bahhhh!” the mad vorcha growled. “You said you contact Collectors! Nothing since! You trick Breeke!”

A gnarled, accusatory finger was pointed down at the volus that had made this little deal. Rassar Plo, a self-proclaimed procurer of items and information. Breeke and his little band of vorcha had come to the stout alien with the hopes of contacting the mysterious aliens beyond the Traverse known only as the Collectors. It was said that their level of technology far surpassed the Terminus systems in many different areas, and Breeke fancied himself to be the smartest vorcha alive. The Collectors could help Breeke get back at all the damn aliens on this station, all the ones that had berated and betrayed him time and time again. If Aria wanted to hire people whose job it was to specifically keep an eye on and hunt down Vorcha, he’d make sure she would choke on her own tongue!

But contacting the Collectors was not an easy business for most of the galaxy. If they were at the beck and call of every vorcha wanting revenge, then they wouldn’t be as enigmatic as they were. To top it off, they’d have been wiped out centuries ago.

The only thing here that kept Breeke from trying to see what a volus looked like underneath their little suits was the mercenary that Rassar had hired to accompany him here at his stand. A Drell by the name of Tanix Spyros, renowned more for his big game hunting than his general freelance work. Every vorcha and krogan on the station knew about the Drell that had felled a Thresher Maw singlehandedly, and Breeke was not as complete of an idiot as both Rassar and Tanix no doubt thought he was.

But that wasn’t stopping the Vorcha from causing a scene. Wary eyes were falling in the direction of Rassar’s stand, and that wasn’t good for business. Especially when a contact from Noveria was supposed to be here any minute now. This vorcha had to be gone by then, one way or the other.

TAGS: @dragonsith13, @Darth Voxyn

OOC: Genesis’ repairs during what would essentially function as a long rest restore him to his full HP of 12. The cloaking device that Knox has provided him can last for three turns before needing to be recharged, which only takes a single turn. It is, however, not as effective at rendering the user invisible as a standard cloaking device, so it must be used with caution.

After successfully completing the prologue, and after a hearty meal, the following characters have leveled up!

Veloc Torv - LEVEL 2
Reezka - LEVEL 2
Thalia T’Lara - LEVEL 2
Stygian Vard - LEVEL 2
Genesis Anomaly - LEVEL 2

Moving on to level 2 gives each of you an additional skill point (9) and an additional power point (4). Consult the Campaign Guide in the OP if you need to be reminded of what you can put your new points into. You are free to edit your original character sheets on the first page with your new skill and power.

 

[Darth Cold]

IC: Genesis Anomaly
Location: Persephone, Workshop

The Workshop had everything he needed for repairs, excellent. Before he began to work on himself he turned on some music. Curiously enough, he had grown to appreciate the noise when there was nothing but silence.

~~~ Fast Forward~~~

When Knox entered the workshop he would find Genesis weaving the last of the wires back into his shell. Why he was on the ceiling was never asked thankfully. Knox had a puck out in his hand. “Here. Old tech but it should work well for you. A cloaking device. Not as effective as the modern variant, but it lasts longer and Omega’s pretty dark anyway. It’ll start vibrating when it’s low on charge. If you’ve got any business to take care of while you’re here, then use it and stick to the shadows. I don’t want another Noveria incident if we can avoid it.”

Genesis dropped from the ceiling in front of Knox and took the puck. “It’s much appreciated. Sometimes I wish I had a skin suit like you, who knows it might happen sooner or later.” What that implied could be many things. “I will tell you a quick story though that I will NEVER do again as long as I can help it. I have been in plain sight before. They thought I was a detestable being, but they are more ok with them than my kind apparently. It was a necessity at the time but that was the last time I ever wore a Quarian Suit. It would be best to keep that quiet from your new friend.” Genesis paused for a second. “What I’m trying to say is thank you, this will help out a lot. Also can you let whoever does the shopping know the parts in the workshop need to be replenished. It would be good to have more for any projects needed in the future.”

Tag: @corinthia @Darth Sedicious @Voidwalker @Darth Kain @Cardun Vrek

 

[Cardun Vrek]

IC: Veloc Torv
The Persephone

“If you’ll ever be happy about having a Salarian around, it’d be her.” Knox said in reply to Torvs assertion that he still wasn't happy about having a Salarian onboard.
"I'll never be happy to a see a damn Salarian unless they're carrying a cure to the weapon they made that DOOMED MY SPECIES." He growled back, banging his fist on the table. "But if she makes food that's as good as this, I can...tolerate her presence. I guess." He added, begrudingly, before polishing off the Korkro. The Quarian asked if her food was 'vegan'. He frowned.

What the hell is a 'vegan'? Is it some kind of Quarian animal they eat?

The Salarian explained that the Quarians food was made up of no animal products. Torv's mouth fell open in shock. "No animal products? Then what the hell is in it? What do you even eat? Plants? You can't live on planets. You need meat. Or fish. Fuck. I'd rather die than live off of plants." He actually shuddered at the thought. He sat there for the next few minutes, trying not to watch the Asari devouring her meal like a hungry Krogan warrior.

Damn it...she even eats like me...

“Exiting FTL now. We should be at the station in five.” The announcement gave Torv the excuse to stand up from his chair, so quickly that he nearly knocked half of the plates off of the table.

“Grab your gear and be at the airlock in five minutes, then. I have something to give our robotic friend so we don’t piss off every organic on Omega.” Knox said, and Torv went back to his quarters without a word, strapping his Avenger Assault Rifle and Krogan Shotgun onto the clamps on the back of his armour. He strapped a few inferno grenades to the back of his belt, and then stretched a little.

One last job...and then I focus on my true calling.

He looked himself over in the mirror inside his room, and then grunted and stomped down to the airlock. He leaned against the wall next to it, waiting for the others.

TAGS; @Darth Kain @corinthia @Hadzuska_The Jester @Voidwalker @Darth Sedicious

 

[dragonsith13]

Rassar Plo
Market District, Omega

The vorcha, Breeke, and his motley pack seemed intent on making a scene, though it was expected from their likes. A gnarly finger was pointed towards Rassar, the thought of how quickly Mr. Spyros could snap it amusingly crossed his mind.

“Yes.”

“Well.”

“Ah.”

“Our agreement was for me to contact the Collectors.”

“And rest assured they were contacted as per our agreement.”

“Contacting is one thing. This is what you PAID for.”

A deep breath could be heard through the respirator of Rassar’s suit between each reply and statement along with the mechanical whirlings of his enviro-suit that was so closely associated with his species and their ability to function outside their homeworld.

“Though that is no guarantee of a response.”

Rassar’s stubby arms raised slightly after his point of fact response. His palms opened slightly in a silent gesture of “sorry about your bad luck in not being able to form coherent thoughts”.

Asking the right questions or seeking the right paths determine the outcome. A notion which the vorcha were clearly limited in their understanding. One expected an inquiry from a vorcha to be on the level of not seeing beyond the initial fleeting thoughts that permeated their primitive brain. The challenge was keeping them from moving towards violence and making the situation work to his advantage.

Not to mention the idea that someone even wanted information on the “Collectors” showed the short sightedness of what they hoped to get involved with. One simply did not just get in touch with the “Collectors”. As such, it was of no use going through the process of explaining the methods to which Rassar had gone through to ensure that such an inquiry was both completed and done so in a manner that did not link he, himself. Resulting in bringing down an unholy storm of unwanted attention from a group of beings that still held many unknowns.Of course he could contact the collectors, though whether or not one would want to receive a response from the Collectors was a different question altogether. So, great lengths had been taken to ensure silos of information were maintained and any inquiries were done in a manner to ensure obfuscation.

And again Rassar had not expected the vorcha Breeke to have understood such. Rassar instead went with the facts. Completing the request from Breeke based upon those facts. Dealing with what he knew about the collectors while banking the rumors about them which circulated the galaxy for future use and exploration as needed.

There was ALWAYS profit to always be made on information, including rumors.

Knowing his words were probably skimming over the vorcha’s limited understanding and with warry eyes falling upon his stand. It was time to wrap this up.

“I know of another vorcha-clan which seeks information.”

The sound of his respirator audible as he threw out the bait with his statement. Rassar had already made his profit off the deal and there was no use expecting a limitless bankroll from a rag-tag group of vorcha. Better to send them off on a wild gas-bag chase, than have them continue snooping and causing further issues. He knew they would not be able to resist further “leads” on how to contact the collectors, since they seemed so narrowly focused on the idea itself. Rassar deliberately kept the statement vague as to not lie outright, but simply misdirect and herd them as needed. Afterall his statement was true, he knew 'many' vorcha groups that sought information. The vorcha themselves were certainly prone to violence, but if you herded them properly, they were extremely pliable.

“However.”

“I can understand.

“If vorcha-clan Breeke is not as strong and smart as other vorcha-clan.”

Rassar’s respirator hissed with mocking intent as he played directly to the vorcha’s innate will to prove their species toughness and competence. Even alluding to Breeke as the de facto leader of his clan as if bestowing upon him some rank of privilege and future in which his clan would be renowned.

"I will send the coordinates to your omni-tool.” Which Rassar did instantly.

“If you are able to find out what they know.”

“I would be willing to compensate you.”

The “other” vorcha-clan was a rabble group of similar likeness to Breeke’s and it just so happened that they owed Rassar some additional credits. More than likely the two groups would scrap. Shout vorcha-insults at each other using their primitive vorcha intellects. A few of them would die, and the vorcha would forget all about why he even came to Rassar in the first place.

“Now if you will excuse me, Vorcha-clan.”

Rassar gave a terse response, having turned the whole situation back on the vorcha and ending his involvement in the conversation. Dismissing Breeke and his lovely band of misfit vorcha, Rassar glanced over at Mr. Spyros after noting the time on his omni-tool, just in time for their intended next meeting.

“Simple aren’t they?” Rassar commented to Mr. Spyros.

@Darth Kain @Darth Voxyn

 

[Darth Voxyn]

IC: Tanix Spyros
Market District Omega

Tanix kept a close eye on the exchange happening before him while picking some dirt out of his nails with his knife. If the Vorcha attempted anything the knife was going to go between his eyes. At the moment however, his just being there seemed to be enough to deter Breeke and his boys from being too stupid. He listened as Rassar spoke to the Vorcha, explaining to them that they got what they paid for before transitioning to pointing him in the direction of another group of Vorcha after the same thing Breeke was after.

'Clever little Volus' he thought to himself. Either he's sending Breeke off after nothing to waste his time or he was playing him and another group against each other. Either way it got Breeke out of his hair. Though if he really wanted Breeke out of his hair all he needed was to pay Tanix some more and he'd go find a good vantage point with his rifle and take care of it.

"Simple aren't they?" Rassar asked him after dismissing the Vorcha as if they were school children to be sent off by their teachers.

"Even the most simple minded wild animal can still be very dangerous" he replied as he continued to keep an eye on the Vorcha, he didn't plan on turning away from them till he was sure they had left.

TAG: @Darth Kain @dragonsith13

 

[Voidwalker]

IC: Thalia
The Persephone

Thalia had been taken back so much by the flavor of Mama Meetra's cooking that she hardly paid any attention to anyone else at dinner. Save for the Turian sitting next to her that also asked for seconds. When Mama Meetra presented them with their second helpings, Thalia was dialed in on the flavors. Torv was going on about something and slamming his fist in usual fashion, nothing new. Yet Thalia kept getting this feeling that he was watching her. It made her feel uneasy and she didn't understand why. She just wanted to finish her meal and get back to her quarters.

“Exiting FTL now. We should be at the station in five.” A voice chimed in over the ship's intercom.

Knox stood from his seat, slid it in and gave a nod. “Grab your gear and be at the airlock in five minutes, then."

Five minutes wasn't a lot of time, especially after having a belly full of delicious food. But it was always the same no matter who the client was, get treated nice then five minutes later it was down to business. At least for now she got to keep her clothes on.

Thalia wasted no time and got up, pushed her chair in and made her way back to her room. Time was of the essence so she made quick work of strapping her pistol holster to her right leg, and sliding the Harpy pistol into place. With legs like hers, she is deadly beautiful. Her omni-tool and blade had never left her arm so that was good to go. All that remained was her Asari sword that she placed on her back. She'd only have to reach over her shoulder and she'd have it in an instant. Thalia caught a glimpse of herself in the full body mirror that was in her quarters, she truly was an Asari Siren. This was the Goddess living through her, this was Kralla. She grabbed her M-15 Vindicator and was making her way to the airlock.

As she approached the airlock, she realized that only one other person had made it so far, Torv. He was standing there leaning against the wall and looking as inviting as ever to talk. Fuck it. She walked straight up to Torv. "Do you have a minute?"

Tag:
@Darth Kain, @Cardun Vrek, @corinthia, @Darth Sedicious, @Hadzuska_The Jester

 

[Darth Sedicious]

IC: Stygian Vard
Location: Persephone

By some metal magic and arcane scientific biomancy, the Reapers had made Stygian what some may call more machine than turian. Truth was, all you are is your brain, at least to Stygian. A brain in a jar being carried around by some spider bot, so long as it was still itself, was as much a turian as any.
At least to Stygian.

Indeed, to Stygian, he was more turian than turian. Turians are powerful, bred in war and grit, second only to the krogan in that way. And to die from eating the wrong food? A weakness artificial evolution has taken care of.
For Stygian.

He could eat a warm plate of krogan shit and it wouldn't hurt him. It would taste as it is, like shit, now that he’s regained his taste, but the machines would do their work and gather the nutrients from it, what little there is, and discard the rest.

To Stygian, that's power.
To Stygian, that's to evolve.
To Stygian, that's to be better.

________________________________

Omega was and still is, no doubt, a very dangerous place. But all he ever needed, all he still needs, is his mind. But a technological marvel of a canesword and your average hand cannon wasn't so bad to bring along either. Nothing to his knowledge required precision fire here, nor thicker armor. The armor he had now would suffice.

Tags: @Darth Kain, @Cardun Vrek, @corinthia, @Voidwalker, @Hadzuska_The Jester

 

[Darth Kain]

GM Update

IC: Cabal Knox
The Persephone, Docked on Omega​

There were few places in the galaxy with as muddy a history as that of Omega. Even Cabal Knox did not know half of this shithole’s worst secrets, its darkest corners, or its most heinous crimes, and he had done business here longer than most humans were willing to. But he knew enough to know that this was the last place in the galaxy you’d want to be. Sadly, everyone that was here had also caught onto that fact.

It’d started as an asteroid rich in element zero, once mined by the ancient Protheans. But that’d been a short while, according to the historians who cared about such things, since this rock was hard enough that not even the most advanced species in the galaxy could crack it. If only they pulled the Batarian method of tossing asteroids at what they hated, because that’s what it had taken to break this mineral-rich asteroid in half. Shame for those Protheans that it’d happened long after they were gone. But that collision sparked all the intrigue here; that element zero was worth far more than gold, and everyone in the galaxy knew it. There was no government, no law. The only thing that even slightly passed as order was whatever Aria T’Loak said.

What a woman, thought Knox. Shame I probably won’t ever break that one rule of hers.

Genesis had seemed to appreciate Knox’s offering, but that had not been a positive enough interaction to outweigh the rambling that came after. Mentions of one day having a body of flesh and bone and a story about wearing a Quarian’s suit had been startling enough that Knox almost hadn’t caught that the Geth was asking for more spare parts to use. Cabal nodded.

“S-sure. We’ll get right on that.” Cabal thumbed back toward the quarters that Genesis had chosen earlier. “Get geared up. We’re heading out.”

Hoping to leave that bit of strangeness behind, the captain of this merry band made his way back to his own quarters, locking the door behind him to catch his breath. You’d think the nerves would have stopped coming this far into a career as dangerous as this, but they never did. And while this little trip to Omega wasn’t meant to be dangerous—after all, it was a simple pickup job—that meant shit on a station like this.

He opted for some light Duelist armor on this job, deciding it best to leave the suit and tie behind. Ceramic plates were there to keep him from dying should his kinetic barrier fail, but not so many that he couldn’t run if he needed to. His Carnifex was holstered on his hip and his Locust was attached to his back, both ready to be drawn at a moment’s notice, yet secure enough that some mangy Vorcha wouldn’t be able to snatch one off of him.

Once his preparations were finished, he made his way down to the airlock, passing by Reezka on the way. She seemed frozen at the common room table, still sliding that nutrient paste down her induction port. “Staying behind? I thought you’d want to go see… er, nevermind.” Probably best not to act so personally yet; the only thing keeping half these people from killing him was the promise of money, after all.

Knox’s arrival at the airlock was the signal for it to open, allowing the team to finally set foot on Omega.

​

They found themselves in a long hallway, dimly lit with pale orange lighting. Windows allowed for a view deeper into the city, though dense fog obscured most of whatever view they could find. Most of what they could see out there was the Persephone itself, which was being fiercely guarded by Ace from any potential scavengers.

A Batarian approached them, and it wouldn’t take a mindreader to feel Knox’s revulsion.

“Welcome back to Omega, Knox,” said Moklan. If there was any amount of disdain returned, the Batarian didn’t show it. “Aria is pleased to hear you didn’t end up killing any of the freelancers she pointed you to.” Nope, nevermind; there it was.

“Sure,” said Knox. “Now tell me the real reason you’re bothering me.”

“Aria also wants to speak with you after you’ve acquired the Volus and the Drell. Go to Afterlife and present yourself as soon as you have.”

“Or?”

“There is no ‘or’.”

Without another word, the Batarian returned to his post at the end of the hall, allowing the team to move past. A door slid open, and the entirety of Omega was open to them.

Knox turned back to the others. “I’m meeting with the last new members of our crew. If any of you have business to take care of while you’re here, now’s the time. Loved ones, gear, shopping; whatever it is, I don’t care. Just don’t get lost or die.”

TAGS: @corinthia, @Hadzuska_The Jester, @Cardun Vrek, @Darth Sedicious, @Voidwalker

IC: Breeke
Market District, Omega​

It seemed that the little suit man was not as much of a liar as Breeke thought. Coordinates blinked on the surface of his omnitool, and that rage that burned in his blood finally had an outlet he could waste it on.

“Gah! Breeke will reach Collectors!” He snapped towards the others with him, who had been trying their best to snarl and intimidate the savvy Volus. “Come on. Let’s go!”

With that, the Vorcha were on their way, and a problem was out of Rassar’s proverbial hair. For now, anyway. The scum of this station had a habit of coming up the drain no matter how many times you flushed them down. Vermin, the lot of them.

As the employer spoke with his bounty hunting contractee about how simple those Vorcha were, another unexpected face appeared at Plo’s humble stand. Though this one was more familiar and certainly more pleasant.

She was a turian, hooded to likely obscure her identity from the nobodies shuffling through the crowd today. Her face was marked with crimson, and her eyes of green seemed to pierce past Rassar’s exosuit with ease. She cast a glance at Tanix, eying him up and down, before turning back to the Volus.

“Rassar,” Nyreen said. “It’s good to see you.”

TAGS: @dragonsith13, @Darth Voxyn

 

[dragonsith13]

Rassar Plo
Market District, Omega

"Even the most simple minded wild animal can still be very dangerous" Tanix remarked as he kept an attentive eye on the brood of peasants before them. His nonchalant grooming habits, a foreboding warning to anyone who would think to test the boundaries of the drell and volus’ arrangement. Breeke and his band of miscreants moved on, fading into the miasma that was Omega as Rassar responded to the poignant comment from the assassin next to him.

“Hmm”

“Yes”

“Very true my associate.”

“It's why we play to their….”

“...most basic of instincts.”

The irony of the situation being that Rassar was as equally quelled as the band of vorcha in the purview of Tanix. The only difference being that Tanix was compensated, and compensated well. Rassar was under no delusions of what the relationship was other than it being a mutual relationship based on skills and credits.

“In the same manner in which…”

“I pay you.”

“Understandably, I know what that means.”

“Associate”

Rassar’s cold monotone delivery could easily have been considered a slight dig at the drell. Though when in fact it was equally directed at himself as much as it was Tanix. The comments were meant in no way to be disrespectful towards the competent being that was Tanix. Simply an acknowledgement of the positions they both occupied. One which Rassar knew could easily have the knife that scoured the drell’s fingernails easily in his own neck just the same as any other being’s.

More importantly the position meant that Rassar needed to be of value to Tanix, and right now his value was in credits and perhaps, if the drell was astute, information and stature in the realm of the underground.

Regardless, one issue has been resolved. That being Breeke and his band of upstanding citizens.

Rassar took a moment to view a display in front of him at his kiosk. Instinctively delving into information available to him. In particular a sheet of Omega based assets available for scrubbing information and ‘resolving’ issues such as loose ends. A quick swipe and credits were transferred for a secondary and completely unrelated issue, though that did not take his attention off of his current topic of interest. The process was all part of the machinations of his affairs and the necessity to constantly be ensuring that information was responded to with credits while disseminating what was of value and what was to be. Developed. And in certain terms manipulated.

“Rassar.” The calling out of his person was not an uncommon situation. “It’s good to see you.”

Unfazed and comfortable in the current situation, Rassar’s gaze remained focused on his display as he worked to finish up his immediate concerns before he turned his attention elsewhere..

“Expected.”

The volus’ stance remained ambiguous, his bodily reactions masked by the suit that he wore.

“Visual acknowledgements.”

“Not something that us volus are generally concerned with.” The volus stated plainly while turning to view the recently emerged from the shadows turian.

“What do you have for me?” The statement being demanding and down to business.

@Darth Kain @Darth Voxyn