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Game Mass Effect: Eradication

Darth Kain

Administrator
Staff member
Administrator
Moderator
Dark Council
Immortalis
Picsart_22-07-16_12-26-06-534.pngWelcome to Mass Effect: Eradication, which will hopefully begin a new saga of epic roleplaying and storytelling for years to come.

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Rules & Guidelines

1) Keep all OOC chatter to a minimum. Only use OOC notes if accompanied by an IC post, and only if it is on-topic to the game. For OOC discussion, use the Mass Effect: Eradication chat on Messenger. If demand calls for it, eventually a Discord will be made.

2) No godmoding. Godmoding encompasses a wide range of unacceptable role-playing behaviors, including creating an invincible or overpowered character, taking control of and writing the overall plot or environment oneself (which is the GM's job), taking control of another player's character without their permission (referred to as godmodding), or otherwise playing the RPG as if one has activated "Cheat mode" or "Godmode" in a video game, exerting excessive power or influence beyond one's own character.

While most forms of godmoding are explicit, there can be more implicit but no less offensive forms, such as describing another player character as weak and cringing when they are actually standing tall and proud, or hurrying through the game at an excessive pace, such as navigating an entire tomb to successfully retrieve an objective in a single post, entirely bypassing the GM's ability to gradually unveil the environment you will be exploring, and its associated puzzles, traps, and enemies.

3) No autohitting. Autohitting is a form of godmoding wherein a player hits an enemy, whether it be a GM-controlled NPC or another player character, without permission from either the GM or the player. Instead, all attacks against an enemy must be described as attempted attacks, rather than successful attacks. The stats system, associated dice system, GM verdicts, and the interplay of writing combat (such as attempting to trap an enemy into being unable to plausibly escape an attack without =godmoding) will determine success, not you.

4) No metagaming. Metagaming comprises a player character possessing knowledge he or she realistically should not. This includes 'meta' knowledge (out-of-universe knowledge) that the player would know but the character would not, such as knowledge of the role-playing mechanics and their implications for combat, knowledge of obscure Mass Effect lore, or game-related secrets that the character would not plausibly know (for example, the existence of the Reapers as a race of machine gods hellbent on eradicating all advanced sentient life), or knowledge of what another character is thinking, feeling or planning simply because another role-player described it in their post. While most examples are explicit, there can be more implicit forms; a player character who seems to conveniently know things, guess things, deduce things, or escape things using what is clearly out-of-universe knowledge will not be long tolerated.

5) No powergaming. Also known as munchkinry, powergaming is a form of metagaming wherein one uses one's out-of-universe knowledge of the role-playing system to play with the sole intent to acquire power or equipment for purposes other than storytelling, exploit or attempt to break the rules of the game or the metaphysics of the Mass Effect universe to acquire greater power than is realistic or immersive, or create a character that is solely designed to be the most powerful build possible using one's analysis of the stats system and dice system (called min-maxing). This can also include killing new, less powerful players in ways that do not seem plausible within the story, for the sole purpose of trolling or griefing them, stealing their loot or equipment, increasing one's power, etc.

More subtle but frequent forms of powergaming include the creation of unrealistically excessive equipment inventories designed to give one's character an unfair advantage; such Character Sheets will be rejected during Character Sheet submission. While some degree of in-universe munchkinry, in the form of a genre-savvy or postmodern character liable to deconstruct fictional tropes or cliches, or simply an exceptionally intelligent one liable to pursue the most realistic or rational option, may be tolerated, this type of character must emerge from plausible in-universe origins, and a character who seems to have such traits tacked on purely to powergame may be rejected at Character creation.

6) The GM is the ultimate and sole authority in this RPG. The GM is yours truly, the game creator; there may, or may not, be sub-GMs created at a later point. The GM has the final say in everything. That means there is absolutely no arguing with the GM, whether it be over a verdict in combat or other GM call, creative control of the overall story and environment, an element of the game mechanics not to your preference, the level assigned to you at game start, or friendly reminders to post in a timely manner.

It also means you enter this game, and potentially depart this game, at the sole discretion of the GM. If I, and I alone, deem you to be a negative influence on the game, it will be my decision to remove you, and there will be no arguing with or appealing that decision.

7) All Character Sheets must be sent to me via PM (preferably via Facebook Messenger) for approval. PM me to apply to join the game (alongside a writing sample if you are new to roleplaying and/or have not already received pre-approval to join), to receive your level if approved to join the game, and to receive approval for your Character Sheet upon completing it. Do not post a Character Sheet in this thread without GM approval. When you are approved to post your Character Sheet, post it both within this thread.

Orientation for New Players

Gameplay takes the form of text-based role-playing, specifically called T1 role-playing, with each player advancing the story by posting updates within this thread, describing the thoughts, actions, and feelings of their characters as if writing a chapter of a collaborative novel from their character's perspective. Other players contribute their own characters' actions and perspectives with their own posts, and the Gamemaster, or GM, provides the overall environment, direction, and moderation of the game, including non-player characters, like the level design and artificial intelligence of a video game. This game can be best described as being akin to a roleplaying video game such as Knights of the Old Republic (more so than Mass Effect, in that our victories are determined by dice rolls and/or logic, rather than how well you aim, take cover, or how many Paragon/Renegade points you acquire), or tabletop role-playing games such as Dungeons & Dragons.

This will be considerably more formal than most role-playing games. Updates are expected to be at least two paragraphs in length, with a preference for detail and quality; many players write posts of considerable length, totaling thousands of words. Role-playing, accordingly, tends to be at a slower pace; an update is required every week, responding to both your fellow players and the GM's weekly updates, which are typically posted at the start of the week (though this may vary).

Separating in-character (IC) gameplay from out-of-character (OOC) interaction is absolutely necessary to play this game. From a logistical standpoint, we do so by using different notations. At the top of every post, before the main body of your writing, you should write the following:

IC: Your character's name
Your character's location

All of your writing beneath this header should be entirely in-character; no OOC commentary or explanations, even in parentheses, should be embedded within the text.

You should finish your post by tagging the other players in your tagset (not all players within the entire game; look to the tags within the GM's own update to see which players are in your tagset), as well as the GM, beneath the main body of your post. You do this by typing the @ sign, and the username of the player you wish to tag; their username will appear in a drop-down menu, allowing you to click on the player. This will mean they will receive a notification when you tag them (and vice versa). Use the following format when writing your tags:

TAGS: @Another Player, @Another Player, etc

You may write OOC commentary outside the main body of your post, either after the TAGs or before the IC header. OOC commentary may include a list of abilities used during combat, a note of clarification, or simply a relevant comment. If you do write OOC commentary, use the format of the following example:

OOC: (Skills/Powers used: Charge, Shotguns) Goddamnit, Torv! You just had to get in the way, lol.

More importantly, however, in-character and out-of-character interactions must be wholly separated in terms of mindset. Aside from the aforementioned rule barring metagaming, it is important to remember this is just a game, and that all in-character interactions are purely and strictly for storytelling purposes. In-character immersion is absolute; players should play their characters entirely realistically and true-to-character, no matter where that takes them.

In-game death has no out-of-character meaning. A character might die because they got unlucky with a trap, took the risk of fighting a player character of higher or approximately equal level, treated a higher-level player character with disrespect (which is not against the rules, merely suicidal) and that player chose to respond realistically and initiate combat, or simply because they encountered a particularly lethal non-player character or situation and did not flee.

Permanent death is one of the many realistic consequences within this game; the stakes are real, and if your character dies, you will have to reroll with a new character. That said, death is uncommon overall; particularly foolish or risky gameplay tends to be required to incur a lethal outcome, although any kind of combat, whether it be with a player character or a non-player character, does carry the risk of injury and death.

The plot will not be tweaked to save you from death. The story is not prioritized above realism. Every action you take has a consequence; the GM will not metagame to spare you from the most utterly realistic consequences of your actions, no matter how much they like you out-of-character. Again, the separation between in-character and out-of-character is absolute.

At the same time, the GM will not metagame in favor of being excessively sadistic, either; gameplay is not intrinsically set against you. Rather, the game strives to be as realistic as possible, as if the Mass Effect galaxy were a real place, as if you had been whisked from our Earth and left on one that has Asari, Turians, and Salarians walking around like annoying tourists.

The rating of the game is equivalent to a film rating of R (Restricted), or a video game rating of M (Mature). Mature, dark, and/or heavy themes and content, including but not limited to graphic violence, narcotic usage, profanity, sex, and disturbing encounters and backstories, are permitted within the writing, without the use of content warnings or the like. That said, the use of mature themes should be tasteful and literary in nature; X-rated smut is not the goal, nor is pointlessly offensive writing with the sole goal of being "edgy."

The Campaign Guide

Every other piece of information you will need to participate in this game rests inside the Campaign Guide, which is linked down below. It describes our setting, the process of creating your character, gameplay mechanics, and much more. A copy/paste-able version of the character sheet will be listed below the link, to make your lives much easier.

Mass Effect: Eradication - Official Campaign Guide

Character Sheet Template

Character Illustration (optional)
Theme Music (optional)
Audio Sample of Character Voice (optional)
Name:
Nicknames/Aliases:
Age:
Sex:
Species:
Orientation (optional):
Homeworld:
Occupation:
Height:
Weight:
Physical Description:
Clothing:
Weapons:
Equipment:
Vehicles:
Pets (if applicable):
Languages:
Combat Skills:
Other Strengths:
Flaws:
Alignment:
Personality:
Fears:
Likes:
Dislikes:
Habits:
Relationships/Love Interests:
Friendships:
Reputation:
Biography:

Level:
Class:
Skills:
Powers:
 

Cardun Vrek

Legendary Member
Moderator
Jedi Council
*Approved CS*

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Name: Veloc Torv
Nicknames/Aliases: ‘The Krogan Shakespeare’ (ironically)
Age: 1,378
Sex: Male
Species: Krogan
Orientation (optional): Heterosexual
Homeworld: Tuchanka
Occupation: Poet & Playwright (Formerly Mercenary and Warlord)
Height: 8’0
Weight: 610 lbs
Physical Description: (See picture)
Clothing: Krogan Battle Armour- heavily weathered. Originally Silver with red highlights, now mostly black with silver and red splotches
Weapons: M-300 Claymore, M-8 Avenger Assault Rifle
Equipment: Omni-Tool, Digital Notebook, Inferno Grenades
Vehicles: None
Pets: A Varren named Trox
Languages: Krogan

Combat Skills: As a Krogan, Torv is exceptionally strong and durable, able to absorb and dish out large amounts of punishment. He is proficient with both Assault Rifles, Shotguns, and Heavy Weapons. He is well versed in Krogan battle tactics and general strategy- though like most Krogan, he prefers the doctrine of ‘Charge into battle head on, kill everything in sight, and ask questions later, preferably over a few bottles of Ryncol.’ Like all Krogan, when heavily wounded, he will go into ‘Blood Rage’, and become immune to pain until either the rage subsides or he is dead. This Blood Rage, however, will cause him to go bezerk and act manically.

Other Strengths: His Krogan biology allows him to survive in habitats that would be dangerous for other species. This biology also allows him to survive for long periods without food or drink.

Flaws: Inability to take criticism, Often refuses to follow orders he feels are ‘cowardly’, or leaders he believes to be weak and indecisive. Somewhat fatalistic.

Alignment: Chaotic Neutral

Personality: Torv is a complex individual. A born warrior known for being brutal, efficient, and utterly ruthless, he is also known to be friendly and talkative to those that gain his respect and trust. This can prove difficult, as Torv has an inflated ego and a hatred for certain species born out of the perceived crimes they committed against his people. Ever since he retired from being a mercenary and took up writing poetry and plays, he has attempted to manage his anger, albeit unsuccessfully. He is known to be short tempered and to explode in fits of anger at the slightest provocation. He also loves to ‘entertain’ people with readings of his works. Despite being apparently happy with his new calling, there are moments where the old warrior can fall into deep moments of depression and sadness, as he reflects on the failure of his people and the doom befallen on his species. Perhaps, in truth, the warrior wants something to believe in again, after watching everything he fought for fall to pieces.

Fears: Extinction of his race, His head plate being ripped off, Failing to complete his ‘destiny’.

Likes: His own Poetry, Krogan, Battle Stories, Varren Pit Fights, Ryncol, Krogan cuisine, Humans (because they pissed off the Turians)

Dislikes: The Genophage, Salarians, Turians, Hanar, Vorcha, The Blood Pack, The Citadel Council, STG, Poetry Critics

Habits: Headbutting walls in frustration or when angered, quoting lines from his works, noting down potential new verses in his digital journal.

Relationships/Love Interests: An Asari named Velaria, who he’s pretty sure was pregnant with his child when she left to return to Thessia, centuries ago.

Friendships: Currently none

Reputation: Torv was a respected warrior amongst his people, but his career change and abysmal works have turned many against him, with many Krogan embarrassed by mention of his name.

Biography:

Born near the end of the Krogan Rebellions which led to the Genophage ravaging his people, Veloc Torv rose to prominence as a Warrior renowned for his brutality and ruthlessness, and who was on the front line of every battle he participated in. Despite the crippling effects of the Genophage, Torv refused to give up the life of a warrior, and fought to keep his people focused on war, despite the Genophage and their loss to the Council turning many Krogan to only look out for themselves and taking up jobs as mercenaries and other menial and brutal work, and led others to focus on breeding. Eventually, however, Torv left Tuchanka, vowing never to return. The exact circumstances are unclear, but rumours abound that it was because his clan mates supported his cousin as the next leader of the clan over Torv, who had been the designated successor by his uncle, Veloc Korgg, the last chief.

Torv eventually, and ironically, took up life as a Mercenary, forging a path filled with blood and destruction, his already extremely violent attitude now amplified by his anger over the Genophage and the failure of his people to stay united. He came to believe the only way to beat the Genophage was to ‘Kill enough Salarians that they fall on their knees, beg for our forgiveness and make us a damn cure.’’ Arrested several times, he has never been successfully incarcerated for more than a few months. Over the centuries, though, Torv began to find the work he was doing more and more unfulfilling, the realisation kicking in that he had become the very type of Krogan that he had preached against in the old days. Eventually, the famously brutal Krogan stopped leading the battle charges, and instead began to take less and less work. Eventually, he found himself working with the Blood Pack in the Terminus Systems, but after realising how far the Krogan had fallen, he left the mercenary life and found himself lost, unable to figure out what to do with his life.

He wallowed around in self pity and an ever growing mountain of empty ryncol bottles, but then began to console himself by reading and attending recitals of poetry, noticing the effect that mere words could have on people.

And Torv knew what his calling was.

He would inspire the Krogan people by composing epic poetry about their history and culture, whilst he decided to channel his anger by placing it all into his verse. His works would bring around a Krogan Renaissance, and inspire the clans to band together and abandon their individualistic pursuits in favour of a united front.

His first Volume- ‘Ode to the Radioactive Sky and other works’- was called ‘The worst thing to ever happen to poetry’ by a noted Salarian critic who mysteriously vanished several weeks later. It sold abysmally and was mostly detested by other Krogan, who felt embarrassed by the mere mention of it.

(It did however find a small following amongst the Asari, who apparently found Torv’s graphic descriptions of Krogan lovemaking in his poems ‘A Night on the Thresher Maw infested Sands’ and ‘A Sonnet for the Female Clans’ ‘Interesting reading’.)

Despite this, and several thousand messages from Krogan to please stop- which Torv adamantly states is part of an STG operation to silence him- Torv continued writing volume after volume of objectively terribly poetry and several horrendous plays- which even notoriously polite Hanar walked, or floated, out of in disgust.

He truly believes that this work he is composing will unite the Krogan people and push them to work as one to cure the Genophage.

He is known to be extremely adverse to criticism of any kind. In fact, the skulls of several of his most vehement critics are mounted on the walls of his apartment. Despite this, he occasionally feels the call of battle. And even though he is rusty, he is still a Krogan warrior.

And it takes a hell of a lot to put a Krogan down for good.


Level: 2
Class: Vanguard
Skills:
Assault Rifles- 1
Shotguns- 1
Hand to Hand Combat- 1
Heavy Armour- 1
Heavy Weapons- 1
Driving- 1
Grenades-1
Melee Weapons-1
Pistols-1

Powers:

Charge- 1
Turbocharge- 1
Havoc Strike- 1
Biotic Jump- 1​
 
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corinthia

Administrator
Staff member
Administrator
Immortalis
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Music

Voice
Base: Martha Higareda as Kristin Ortega (Altered Carbon)


Name:
Reezka'Jaa nar Idenna vas Sudari (formerly)

Nicknames/Aliases:
Reezka, "Reez"

Age: 27

Sex: F

Species: Quarian

Orientation: Bisexual

Homeworld: N/A. Born on the Idenna.

Occupation: Mercenary

Height: 4'9" (145cm)

Weight: 85 lbs.

Physical Description: Reezka is a short and petite woman, even for a quarian; her frame is slender and lithe, with tridactyl hands and digitigrade legs. She wears the same envirosuit and helmet all quarians do. Under her mask, she has green-tinted pale beige skin and light, bluish hair worn in small, protective braids. Her hair is naturally black. Her face is slender, angular, and distinctly alien; her upturned eyes have black scleras and glowing golden irises which show through the faceplate of her mask. She has a pierced septum and a tattoo in Khelish script under her right eye.

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Clothing: Her envirosuit is a sleek black and dark grey with green detailing, usually with a cropped, hooded, short-sleeve jacket in a dark noxious green true cloth over it. The faceplate of her helmet is a vibrant green with visible data feeds and circuitry. She wears lightweight armor on her arms and legs and her pistol strapped to her thigh.

Weapons: Daggers (pair), M-5 Phalanx pistol, M-11 Wraith shotgun, M-97 Viper sniper rifle

Equipment: Quarian enviro-suit and helmet. Quarian-made omni-tool with omni-blade. Various quarian, turian, asari, human, and krogan medical supplies. Nightshade Blade poison antidote. Lockpick multitool. Garrote.

Integrated envirosuit systems include:

HUD - Target tracking, LiDAR, thermal, ultraviolet enhancement, 10x zoom, target biofeedback, various data feeds, audiolink and communications system

Suit - Standard localized microfabricators, decontamination equipment, antibiotic/antihistimine injectors, suit VI, light kinetic barrier

Vehicles: None.

Pets (if applicable): N/A. Pet dander allergy.

Languages: Galactic, Quarian/Khelish

Combat Skills: Reezka touts herself as a jack-of-all-trades mercenary, but her real talent lies in stealth, B&E, and assassination. She is a skilled markswoman with pistols, shotguns, and sniper rifles. Her small, limber frame gives her an advantage in stealth ops, giving her the ability to fit into spaces most others would not be able to, and in martial arts– which she has trained extensively in– utilizing rapid blows and acrobatics. She uses her size and speed to her advantage in close-quarters combat; she can be quite deadly if she’s closed in on her target with her shotgun.

Other Strengths: Reezka worked as a medic when she was crew on the Sudari, so she has a good grasp on first aid, and is able to manage her own immuno-issues with ease. She is also fairly handy with tech (especially medical equipment), hacking, and coding. Physiologically very sturdy, with seemingly boundless energy.

Flaws: Like all quarians, Reezka is severely immunocompromised. Because of her boyfriend Hercus, and the fact they struggle to keep a dedicated clean room at their home on Omega, Reezka is almost always mildly ill (though she is convinced she’s gradually getting more acclimated). Stubborn to a fault.

Allergies: Pet dander, pollen, dust, insect stings/bites, gluten

Alignment: Chaotic Neutral

Personality: Reezka is 85 pounds of pure, manic chaos; high energy, outgoing, somewhat crass, and charismatic, she has her very own brand of charming. She is eccentric, loud, and very forward. Extreme mood swings. Although she reads as very independent and self-absorbed, she is sensitive to others’ opinions and constantly seeks outside approval.

Fears: Deathly afraid of Hercus breaking up with her. Dying.

Likes: Dextro-amino chocolate, citrus fruits, tequila, cute animals, club music (Trance, DNB, EDM, Deep House, Dark Synth), Hercus

Dislikes: People who are “too uptight”, being insulted, double-crossing, Cerberus

Habits: Laughs when nervous and at other inappropriate times. Cracks terrible jokes. Foul mouthed.

Relationships/Love Interests: Hercus Xero (turian boyfriend). Reezka and Hercus have been dating for two years and their love is absolutely disgustingly saccharine. Hercus is all brawn and not a lot of brain, and works as security detail for a club on Omega. The two have been living together for just over a year.

Friendships: Various acquaintances from Omega, personal and professional. Starlight (Thalia T'lara) - work acquaintances through Afterlife/Aria T'loak.

Reputation: Reezka was exiled from the Flotilla; her reputation among quarians is extremely poor. But she has built a stable, respected reputation for herself as a mercenary on Omega.

Biography: Reezka was among the first quarian children born on the Idenna in 2157; born into the Jaa family, a family of well-respected pilots, she was raised with the expectation that she would do her family proud by following in their footsteps to become a pilot herself. But Reezka, whose vibrant and high-energy personality already made her feel like an outsider, simply didn’t have the aptitude to carry the family’s legacy as pilots (unlike her younger sister, Rani, who was a natural prodigy).

Instead, she began training into the medical field at a young age, first becoming a medical equipment technician before cross-training as a nurse. All through her young years, she struggled with her family and mentors’ expectations of her, wanting only to be accepted and to make them all proud. Even though she hated working in medicine, she stuck with it in the hopes that “saving lives” was a good enough alternative to being a pilot for her family.

At age 20, Reezka embarked on her Pilgrimage, traveling to the Citadel from the Migrant Fleet, where she subsequently spent two years training as a paramedic and learning about new, cutting-edge medical technology from salarian and asari doctors at Huerta Memorial Hospital. For Reezka, it was an excruciatingly slow two years, with the only silver lining being the new sense of freedom that came along with being apart from the Flotilla. Away from her familial pressures, Reezka felt free to date around, do frivolous and mischievous things like throwing rooftop parties on the Presidium, and pursue interests that she actually cared about, like martial arts and fashion trends.

When Reezka’s Pilgrimage came to an end two years later, she returned to the Flotilla and applied to join the crew of the Sudari, offering her new expertise in emergency medicine. She was accepted, and Reezka returned to a “normal” quarian life among the Migrant Fleet.

But she was restless now, knowing what independence she had outside the Flotilla– as well as coming to the realization that she was tolerated by her family and others she looked up to in her community. She just… didn’t quite fit.

In the year following her return, Reezka made it a point to keep her head down, sticking to her work and staying as well-behaved as she could. But then she met Lena’Romis– a surgeon with whom Reezka fell in love with. Reezka idolized Dr. Romis, even going as far as transferring out of emergency medicine and becoming an ICU nurse under Dr. Romis’ charge. Their affair was torrid, and secretive; Reezka was so consumed by her relationship with Lena that she didn’t realize how sinister Lena was, until she asked Reezka to do something terrible. But by then Reezka was in too deep… so when Lena asked her to inject a high-profile patient with a lethal dosage of a narcotic, Reezka did it.

And then Dr. Romis reported Reezka to the Admiralty.

Lena’Romis had been methodical in her plans, and when Reezka was arrested and put on trial, Dr. Romis’ testimony against her was iron-clad. Reezka was then tried, convicted, and exiled from the Migrant Fleet for murder.

Cast adrift in the galaxy and feeling broken, Reezka found herself in the outlaw mecca of Omega. She was extremely disillusioned, feeling failed by her family, species, and by herself. But she found comfort in the things she enjoyed during her Pilgrimage: she partied, she slept around, she apprenticed herself to a martial arts trainer… And then she bought her pride and joy– her M-11 Wraith shotgun.

It was then that she began to network herself as a mercenary, applying her varied skills and natural talent with firearms to freelancing as a hired gun. This newfound bloodlust only amplified her intense temperament, which made her an exceptionally effective assassin. She seemed to revel in killing, as if what happened with Dr. Romis had unlocked something in her. Her infectiously vivacious and bold personality made her popular on Omega, currying favor with big-shot bosses and gangs like Aria T’loak, Blood Pack, and Eclipse.

Two years into her career on Omega, she met the love of her life: a turian body guard named Hercus Xero. Though their relationship has caused Reezka to settle down somewhat, her mercenary career and vicious reputation haven’t suffered a bit. Hercus is mostly muscle, and isn’t very bright, but he loves Reezka fiercely and spoils her rotten. Their relationship, from the outside, is nausea-inducingly sweet. Reezka is very sentimental and eats up Hercus’ adoration.

With her personal life stable, and as Reezka begins to feel healed from the wrongs done to her by Dr. Romis and the Flotilla, she has made it a point to keep a finger on how her family is doing. The most recent discovery: her uncle, a talented pilot named Hilo’Jaa vas Idenna, was double crossed and wound up dead at the hands of Cerberus agents… on Omega! Now Reezka is keeping her ear to the ground, waiting to catch wind of an opportunity to hit back at those damn humans…


Level: 1
Class: Infiltrator

Skills:

Hand-to-hand Combat - 1
Heavy Weapons - 1
Light Armor - 1
Medicine - 1
Melee Weapons - 1
Pistols - 1
Shotguns - 1
Sniper Rifles - 1

Powers:

Concussive Shot - 1
Nightshade Blades - 1
Tactical Cloak - 1




Hercus (20220817114026).png

Music

Name:
Hercus Xero

Nicknames:
Herc, Hercy

Age: 35

Sex: M

Species: Turian

Orientation: Straight

Homeworld: Digeris

Occupation: Club security detail, Club Quasar

Height: 6’10”

Weight: 250 lbs.

Physical Description: Hercus is a tall and well-built turian; his skin is a dark charcoal gray and his carapace is a dark, slightly metallic-looking silver, and his chest, arms, tridactyl hands, and neck are covered thoroughly in geometric black tattoos. He bears the marks of his family and colony on his face in white and yellow tattoos. He has a heavy brow, and soft brown eyes. His crests and mandibles are long and well-groomed.

Clothing: Hercus typically wears his black and yellow work uniform, which consists of a yellow collared shirt with the club’s logo on the right breast and SECURITY across the back, black pants with very light armor padding on the thighs, a utility belt equipped with a heavy pistol, maglite, taser, flex cuffs, stun baton, and various pouches, and boots.

Outside of work, Hercus likes to wear black; usually, fitted jeans, hoodies or jackets, and band shirts or muscle tanks.

His armor is standard turian military-issue. It is the typical dark gray and black camo, with yellow lights which signify his former rank. He has, however, ripped off his rank patches (although he’s left his name badge). He’s since attached his rank patches to a jacket covered with patches and pins from bands he’s seen in concert.

Weapons: Carnifex heavy pistol, Phaeston assault rifle

Equipment: Maglite, taser, flex cuffs (multiple sizes), stun baton. Omni-tool. Kinetic barrier. His old military-issue armor.

Vehicles: Mark II 2184 Blackout (black, with black leather interior, white detailing), hoverbike (red and black)

Pets (if applicable): N/A. Reezka has a pet dander allergy.

Languages: Galactic, Turian/local language of Digeris. He is (slowly) learning to read Khelish.

Combat Skills: Hercus served for many years in the turian military; his combat skills reflect this. He is a very skilled and capable soldier with great proficiency in pistols, assault rifles, grenades, and heavy weaponry. Thanks to his brutish charm and years of military training, he’s also a decent team leader in combat situations, though he doesn’t particularly enjoy giving orders. Hercus also enjoys working out and as such he is physically very strong and has high stamina. Because of his job working security, he’s extremely capable in physically restraining, grappling, and otherwise wrestling all manner of aliens into submission.

Other Strengths: Hercus loves skycars and hoverbikes, and is a very skilled driver. Surprisingly high EQ. Fantastic street smarts.

Flaws: To an outsider, Hercus doesn’t seem very bright since he’s not particularly book smart.

Diet: Though turian diets focus heavily on meats, Hercus follows a loose pescatarian-type diet with emphasis on vegan dishes so that he and Reezka can eat the same meals together as often as possible. But he’d cheat his diet in a heartbeat for steak.

Alignment: True Neutral

Personality: Hercus is quite the bro, with a rough-and-ready approach and general love for typically masculine things; he appears outwardly quite thuggish. He’s boisterous, charismatic, and a little bit smart-assed, with an off-beat sense of humor. Though he looks quite rough, with his tattoos and burliness, he’s actually got quite the tender heart and is far more thoughtful than he lets on.

Fears: Heights, dying, losing Reezka/Reezka dying on a mission

Likes: Reezka, his car, working out, a juicy steak, Metal (Heavy, Power, Thrash, Progressive Metal; Hard Rock, Grunge Rock. Turian, krogan, and human bands.)

Dislikes: Wilted salads (“Why would they ruin perfectly good leaves on purpose?!”), his salarian manager, sweaty gym equipment, whenever Reezka is upset or sad, the turian government

Habits: Smokes, a habit he picked up in the military. Laughs at things most wouldn’t find funny.

Relationships/Love Interests: Reezka’Jaa (quarian girlfriend). Reezka and Hercus have been dating for two years and their love is absolutely disgustingly saccharine. Reezka is his dream girl, he adores her energy and eccentricity. The two have been living together for just over a year.

Friendships: Various acquaintances from Omega, personal and professional. Old bootcamp/army friends. “The boys” from work.

Family: Hilus Xero (older brother), Haymus Xero (younger brother)

Reputation: Hercus is quite popular among his peers from the club. Elsewhere, particularly in underworld circles, he’s mostly known as “Reezka’s boyfriend”, and he does not mind this at all.

Biography: Hercus was born to a middle-class family of turians on the colony world of Digeris, as the middle of three boys, in 2149. His upbringing was about as normal as normal could get for a young turian man on a colony; he attended a public school, enjoyed playing sports with his brothers in his free time, and at 15, enrolled in bootcamp as all turians did. He enlisted in the army immediately thereafter, and was posted off-world by 18.

He continued on to serve in the turian ground forces for a total of 11 years– he saw his fair share of combat during this time, touring through conflict-torn colonies. He was good at what he did, thanks to his maverick-y approach to leadership and natural inclination for physical activity. This aided him in rising through the ranks, and by 2173, he’d made Command Sergeant and was under review to become an officer.

But Hercus had more going on in his thick skull than he let on. He was starting to have had enough of combat. Not to mention he was increasingly critical of the turian government and military; he was beginning to think that maybe this meritocratic, hierarchical, hands-off-but-somehow-still-very-demanding, militaristic “structure” wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. So he made his exit from the military, and thought to try out a regular civilian life. In 2175, he moved in with his older brother Hilus, an investment banker, on the homeworld of Palaven, to take a crack at being normal. He got a job in a VA office, and a nice enough turian girlfriend, but something just… wasn’t right.

Suffice it to say, that didn’t last very long. Less than a year later, Hercus found himself a shitty hole-in-the-wall apartment on Omega and a great new job working security at a club called Club Quasar. He liked the raw freedom and chaos of Omega– he liked the allure of its dark alleys and how everyone seemed to have a secret. He fell right into step with the security guys at Quasar, befriending all of them and fitting right into that crimey pocket. There was more than enough intrigue and beautiful women to keep him interested and occupied. His paycheck was more than enough, too, and he enjoyed burning his credits on a slick hoverbike, on covering himself in tattoos, and on going to the most raucous metal concerts he could get into.

Then, after five years of dicking around, he met someone who changed his life: a tiny quarian woman, brimming with a simmering chaos that was barely contained by her black-and-green envirosuit. Reezka. Hercus fell crest over heels in love with this little gremlin of a woman, absolutely worshiping the ground she walks on. After a year of dating, the two moved in together; now, Hercus is happy to shower his girl with affection all day, every day.


Level: 1
Class: Soldier

Skills:

Assault Rifles - 1
Driving - 1
Hand-to-hand Combat - 1
Heavy Weaponry - 1
Grenades - 1
Medium Armor - 1
Melee Weapons - 1
Pistols - 1

Powers:

Combat Fitness - 1
Concussive Shot - 1
Siege Pulse - 1
 

Darth Kain

Administrator
Staff member
Administrator
Moderator
Dark Council
Immortalis
ezgif-4-2702833ecd.jpg

Theme Music:

Character Voice: Jensen Ackles -

Name: Cabal Knox

Nicknames/Aliases: N/A

Age: 33

Sex: Male

Species: Human

Orientation: Heterosexual

Homeworld: New Canton

Occupation: Major Shareholder of Elanus Risk Control Services

Height: 6’0

Weight: 194 lb.

Physical Description: Knox is a handsome, if grave, looking man with a scruffy beard and well-groomed brown hair. His body possesses a few scars thanks to his time in the Alliance Navy; mostly burns, save for one bullet wound just above his heart. A tattoo of his late sister’s name rests on his ribcage. But, of course, the most striking feature Knox possesses is his eyes. They are a strikingly bright blue, unnaturally so thanks to the cybernetic enhancements he’s undertaken.

Clothing: More often than not, Knox prefers to wear a formal suit of black and white, as is in fashion with most wealthy businessmen these days. But he is not opposed to throwing on a suit of armor, specifically his custom-tailored Duelist armor made by ERCS, painted charcoal gray and an icy silver.

Weapons: M-6 Carnifex, M-12 Locust

Equipment: Omni-Tool, Personal Datapad, Biotic Amp, Medi-gel, Cybernetic Eyes

Function of Cybernetic Eyes: Infrared Vision, Adjustable Zoom, Focal Clarity, Wider Periphery
Vehicles: The Persephone - a small scout ship at roughly only 100 meters long, it lacks any offensive weaponry thanks to the Citadel Council’s ban on civilian ships possessing such armaments. What it lacks in offensive capability is more than made up for in its speed and advanced shielding technology: cyclonic barriers.

Pets: None

Languages: English

Combat Skills: Though he doesn’t have to fight as regularly as he did when he was younger, Knox is still a phenomenal combatant. His biotic strength is something to behold, and his aim hasn’t faltered with age.

Other Strengths: Knox is a clever man that knows exactly what to say to get what he wants. He’s dedicated, insightful, and persistent in everything that he does.

Flaws: Thanks to their role in the slaughter of his family, Knox absolutely hates Batarians, blindingly so. He’d consider punting a Batarian child across the room if he can get away with it.

Alignment: True Neutral

Personality: Knox is a confident man who knows how to twist any situation and any conversation in his favor. This confidence can come off as arrogance to some, but he does not view himself as any better than anyone else. He simply knows that confidence is the perfect counter to indecisiveness, which he believes cost the life of his younger sister.

Fears: Getting attached to anyone, failure, vulnerability

Likes: Hardcopy Books, Ramen, Varren, Elasa

Dislikes: Batarians, Vorcha, The Citadel Council

Habits: Smokes cigarettes, facial twitches when irritated

Relationships/Love Interests: None

Friendships: War buddies from the Alliance, Mordin Solus

Reputation: A respected businessman and former marine, Cabal Knox seems to have connections all throughout the Terminus Systems.

Biography: Cabal was born on New Canton, a human colony on the edge of the frontier. In its earlier years, it suffered an attack from an infamous band of Batarian slavers. Knox’s family were victims of that attack, his parents and younger sister were all brutally murdered when they fought against their would-be captors. The young boy could do nothing when the leader of those Batarians shot him in the chest, leaving him for dead. When the Alliance sent its forces to survey the damage, they’d found that he survived, clutching onto life with a vigor that they’d never quite seen before.

Shortly after recovering from his injuries, Cabal was discovered to have biotic abilities. This sent him straight to Jump Zero, with loads of other biotic children to learn how to control and hone their abilities. Despite rigorous training, fearsome teachers, and jealous peers, Knox made a fine graduate of the academy. At the age of 18, he enlisted in the Alliance military.

What we know of his military career is scarce, thanks to many of his assignments being buried under black ink. Just as much is known of the reason behind his discharge, and how he made so many credits thereafter. But we do know what he did with those credits. He invested in Elanus Risk Control Services, so much so that he owns nearly twenty percent of the company’s stock.


Level: 5
Class: Adept
Skills:

Driving - 2
Hand-to-Hand Combat - 2
Grenades - 2
Light Armor - 2
Medicine - 2
Pistols - 2
Submachine Guns - 2

Powers:

Backlash - 2
Barrier - 1
Biotic Jump - 1
Reave - 1
Singularity - 1
Stasis - 1
Throw - 2
 
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Darth Sedicious

Member
Moderator
Dark Council
Jedi Council
Character Illustration:

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Theme Music:

Voiceclaim:
David Lodge as Grigori

Name: Reman Maclius

Nicknames/Aliases: Stygian Vard

Age: early 30’s

Sex: M

Species: Turian

Orientation: Heterosexual

Homeworld: Omega

Occupation: None currently.

Height: 6’2”​


Physical Description:
Stygian Vard is shorter, frailer, and skinnier than the average turian, an obvious side-effect of some debilitating disease, forcing him to rely on a natural biotic augmentation to compensate in combat. This disease had him welcome experimental geth modifications, which unbeknownst to him included reaper tech. While he covers the cybernetics well with robes or full-body suits, he is still clearly a veritable cyborg, as indicative from the azure-light eye and jaw enhancements he can scarcely conceal. Running down his spine is a trail of geth tech he has been forced to cover with a hood. It is unclear, thanks to the innumerable dormant modifications the geth installed, how he will look in only a year.
He occasionally wears a custom-designed white paint over his tattooless, grey face, a "death mask" worn to represent a culling. His former followers once donned literal masks in such a design, a symbol of solidarity rather than conformity. When attempting to blend in more fully, he applies this paint all over his head and his cybernetic eyes switch design to something more natural.

Stygian Death Mask:
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Stygian subterfuge:
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Clothing:
Despite his brutal, highly militaristic background, Stygian usually wears very little metal armor, preferring custom-made dark robes and light armor with arcane symbolism woven into its extremely durable cloth. His only constant metal armor is dual gauntlets made of a strong but light alloy to allow him to block dangerous weapons without cost to comfort. His robes include a hood to hide the geth enhancements and ports running down his spine, and his black cloak, which he sometimes wears, assists this.

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Armor:
Stygian is not ashamed of his humble origins in the Terminus systems, and paradoxically proudly wears an illegal high-performance suit manufactured there known as the Terminus Assault Armor. His variant is medium armored. He once used this suit often prior to his mastery of his biotic ability. Now that his legs have been taken out from under him, it may see use once again.

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Armament:
Cane-Sword — Stygian’s main weapon is a neodymium alloy cane that, when he sets off a chain reaction within the shaft using his biotics, becomes a straight, black bastard warp sword redolent in appearance of human katanas almost instantly, and can turn back again into a cane by reversing the process. The blade channels mass effect warp field energy and can cut through armor as well or even better than any omni-blade. The blade is straight enough for propitious and strong thrusting attacks, and the handle accommodates a wooden addition for diplomacy, creating a hook to make it more believable as a strict cane and making it harder for Stygian to drop the weapon or otherwise be disarmed. The hook addition creates a curve that's better for cutting and worse for thrusting.
The cane’s extremely thin and transparent outer layer of dark matter prevents the magnetism of neodymium from turning into a liability and from it being destroyed conventionally—two positive side effects of its capabilities. The cane’s tech responds specifically to Stygian’s usage, and is thus as natural as a thought (doesn’t require a roll to turn switch forms). Tracking device installed for insurance.

M-97 Viper — For those he needs to kill in a different state, or simply for overwatch, he uses a black M-97 Viper with an enhanced scope and concentration mod.

M-55 Argus — For assault, Stygian utilizes an ultralight black M-55 Argus with a stability dampener and precision scope.

M-5 Phalanx — Equipped with a green laser sight, this black-painted hand cannon is Stygian’s go-to for combat and self-defense in volatile areas.

Equipment:
Stygian uses a Logic Arrest omni-tool, with an omni-blade for back-up self-defense. His biotic amplifier model is a Serrice Council Savant, an asari model which is more fluid with his ability. Some grenades of varying make. The rest of his equipment is largely what one would expect, including medi-gel and a kinetic barrier.

Cybernetics:
Stygian Vard has a great deal of cybernetics both open and hidden. When Sovereign died, most of his cybernetics shut down, and are slowly reactivating, including ones he had never seen before. His most noticeable cybernetic features are his eyes, which offer exceptional visual clarity and a greater width of periphery and allow standard sight but also different vision modes including variable zoom, night vision, and visible and long wave infrared. Another important cybernetic feature is his ears, which dampen sounds above a decibel limit, including gunfire, and connect directly to communication systems. Finally, he has ports running along his spine, which in certain cases allow direct connection to certain systems, such as a geth network. Other cybernetic enhancements such as general strength enhancements and synthetic bone weave are meant to compensate for Stygian’s previous deterioration.
Stygian has other cybernetics, but they have yet to reactivate or are still dormant.

Vehicles:
None, now.

Pets:
None.

Languages:
Trade Language, Variants of: Turian, Asari, and Quarian

Combat Skills:
Stygian was well on his way to becoming the most powerful turian biotic in history, and as such he is primarily a biotic combatant. His primary offensive ability warp, unlike the ball of dark energy it appears as for most, manifests as snaking sporadic tendrils of lightning-like energy, a bolt of thunder tearing asunder armor and flesh in purple scintillation. While it may no longer be so glorious nor as deadly, it still retains its idiosyncrasy. His favorite ability is Dominate: while strong, Stygian’s brute force mind control was powerful and highly conducive to his goals. Now, he can only disrupt the synaptic processes to confuse friend and foe, or with good mental effort brainwash an enemy for a limited amount of time. Nevertheless, he uses it often and liberally. HIs defensive ability Backlash, while less complete in protection than a true barrier, it’s a perfect ability for use in close combat along with his sword, damaging with offense and defense.
Being a turian, Stygian is trained in the use of most firearms, though he prefers not to use them, as well as martial arts which he does enjoy using. Despite a preference for biotics, Stygian Vard is a capable marksman.

Currently, his primary method of combat is utilizing biotics to soften targets or create advantages before utilizing his M-5 and warp sword in tandem, if not firing from long range.

Other Strengths:
Stygian is quite cosmopolitan, though it may be due to his autodidactic biotics research and training that saw him learn from every species and culture he could, that itself an asset for him.
Stygian has researched extensively into biotics, particularly into Asari mind-melding.
Stygian is also capable with technology, though he pours his skill into mastery of biotics.

Flaws:
Is not the fittest of turians, especially thanks to his condition.
He has a blatant disregard for consistency in principle, with himself most of all.

Alignment: Chaotic Good

Personality:
Stygian appears to unapproachably aloof: this appearance lessens to an immured warmth with those he considers friendly acquaintances or simply friends. He is still a very serious individual whose swift and sharp rebuke is hurled with hurricane force and pinpoint precision, but often only to those he cares about—or those he views as presenting negligible threat.
Rather than become jaded and cynical by the natural calcification that comes with the endurance and witness of the extreme unfair harshness of life, Stygian has held out hope that empathy will prevail in all, inching toward a better galaxy but not a utopia.
Stygian’s style in both physical appearance and conduct in pursuit of his goals can sometimes come off as overtly evil, particularly when he dons the death mask, but this is simply his love for the gothic and gritty influencing his disposition.

Overall, Stygian Vard is an intellectual whose focus on acquisition of knowledge is a pursuit of power, not for its own sake but to make the universe around him a better place.

Fears:
Stygian has a strong fear—but not a phobia—of high speed travel in vehicles smaller than warships. Neurodegenerative disorders and head injuries.

Likes:
Stygian has always had a predilection for the gothic. He enjoys reading, researching, strategizing, and talking to Ainsa, the "Moon of his Nights". Unorthodox and vulgar poetry such as that of the macabre Charles Baudelaire and his krogan counterpart Veloc Torv.
Asari, Drell, Elcor, Krogans, Geth, Humans, Volus

Dislikes:
Strangely, Shakespeare’s sonnets. The quarian government. Cerberus. Traditions. Severe dislike of religion.

Habits:
Resting his hands on his cane and staring a thousand miles past whatever window is in front of him. Smells books when he first opens them. Placing his hands on his head when attempting to dominate someone using biotics. Suffers from bouts of verbal and facial tics.

Relationships/Love Interests:
Ainsa, a Demon of the Night Winds. Reman and Ainsa are lovers despite Ainsa’s killer condition. They avoid the specific process that causes death. Reman visits Ainsa at her monastery whenever possible, and they meet at Thessia when she is able to go there.

Friendships:
Stygian has a circle of close and capable friends who he rarely sees these days. His best friend is a krogan engineer. He also has old friends still on Omega, including Aria T’Loak. Legion.
Recently he has made friends with Garrus Vakarian. A friendly acquaintance with Tela Vasir, in their mutual usage of Shadow Broker intel.

Reputation:
Stygian has a reputation among the quarians as a geth-sympathizer and possible threat, and treats his presence with caution if they tolerate it at all.
For the larger galaxy, he is largely known as a political advisor with a low tolerance for ivory tower politicians, braindead bigots, psychopath corpos, and bullshit.

Biography:
Stygian was born as Reman Maclius on Omega to a family of fighters, and lived there for part of his life, making friends with lowlives, gang members, and the sufferers. When he moved on to literally greener pastures elsewhere, he never forgot the suffering he witnessed on Omega, and always kept an eye for those in similar positions wherever he went. In recent times, he has frequented Omega, and is speculated to be an associate of Archangel.

On Omega, his mother was exposed to extreme amounts of element zero. This was sure to be both her death and her unborn child’s, but the infinitesimal won out against the infinite. Both she and her son survived, with her son’s biotic ability manifesting late but with extreme potency.

Years later, as a young adult, Stygian had studied voraciously the art of dark matter manipulation, particularly of the nervous system. He had begun to make his way into politics, leveraging mind dominance and cunning in order to gain a large amount of powerful assets. He helped the downtrodden wherever and however he could in the most ruthless manners possible, taking from the most evil and dirty their finest and most effective tactics to use against them. He gained many enemies, and with his biotic ability thus gained many friends.

He encountered the geth Legion on a diplomatic mission near the Perseus Veil, and his fate forever became entwined with theirs. He fought long and hard for their freedom, to show the quarians reason, and when they refused he showed them hatred. He undertook missions with Legion to protect geth when diplomacy was no use, and with his armor he retained plausible deniability.

Once his degenerative condition had become too severe to fully move on his own, the geth repaid his efforts with experimental augmentation. With these augmentations, Stygian returned to politics to attempt to work his way up to the galactic council, but was greeted with horrific malformed whispers that attempted to mold his mind into something grotesque. When Sovereign died, the cybernetics went haywire and damaged him severely, and those under his biotic influence either died or were too damaged to be of any more use. Freed from Sovereign control but as weak biotically as he was as a child and forced to use a limited amount of credits, Stygian is on the path to reclaim his power—and gain some more while he’s at it.


Level: Level 1 - 8 skill points, 3 power points

Class: Adept

Skills:

Armor:
Light Armor - 1
Medium Armor - 1

Combat:
Hand-to-Hand-Combat - 1
Melee Weapons - 1
Pistols - 1
Shotguns - 1
Assault Rifles - 1
Sniper Rifles - 1

Utility:
Medicine - 1

Powers:

Backlash - 1
Dominate - 1
Warp - 1
Singularity - 1​
 
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Voidwalker

Active member
Streaming Partner
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Name: Thalia T'Lara
Nicknames/Aliases: Starlight, Niliha, Mistress Tevura, Kralla
Age: 183 years old
Sex: Female
Species: Asari
Orientation: Yes-sexual
Homeworld: Thessia
Occupation: Dancer, Escort, Dominatrix, Part Time Mercenary
Height: 1.6 m (5'2")
Weight: 143lbs
Physical Description: See Picture
Clothing: As a dancer most of her clothing is very skimpy and consists of mostly heels and lingerie.
a9405da1db6479b8d4eac43ee2073608.jpg
As an escort her clothes, if she even has any on at all, they are usually tight and revealing outfits leaving little to the imagination of what lies underneath. In bother her roles as a dominatrix and a mercenary, she prefers tight body forming suits. Usually made of leather or some other type of protective yet breathable material.

Weapons: Asari Sword, M-15 Vindicator, Harpy, Omni-Blade

Equipment: Sticky and Mark 14 Grenades, Light Colossus Armor, Omni-Tool, Omni-Gel, Medi-Gel, Datapad, HMBA Basic Biotic Amp, translator implant

Vehicles: None that she owns, but it isn't hard for one of her stature to be able to get her hands all over one if needed.

Pets: Only those that she considers to be her most goodest of boys and girls does she consider her pets.

Languages: Can understand any language that is picked up and understood by her translator implant

Combat Skills: Due to her small size Thalia is quick on her feet. Spending time as a dancer has given her the opportunity to build her upper body muscles and tone her core. She can climb quickly up obstacles that most would have difficulty with. As a mercenary she was trained to use assault rifles and pistols. However her specialty is hand-to-hand combat and close quarters interactions with melee weapons.

Other Strengths: Flexible, Graceful, Spatial Awareness, excellent balance, Physical stamina, Confidence, Discipline, Shameless, Independent

Flaws: None. Your Mistress is perfect and you will treat me as the goddess I am.

Alignment: Lawful Neutral

Personality: Daddy issues and ruthlessly aggressive, yet she knows how to hide those sides of her and to be flirtatious and seducing when the time calls for such. But also at times she can be a bit of a party girl even partaking in the occasional drug and alcohol use. When meeting new people, she puts on the act of being flirty and submissive as she feels out the situation and sees a way she can take control. She's confident in who she is, but she knows she has some issues and needs to drown them out. She is more distrusting of men than she is women, but she will usually target and attempt to seduce a male before a female. Has absolutely no issue with turning to physical violence or murder if she needs to. "So be a good pet, and do as I command."

Fears: Having her own power and freedom stripped from her and being in all purposes a slave to anyone.

Likes: Power, Money, Sex, Naps and Snacks, Freedom, being worshipped, and when others beg to her.

Dislikes: Judgemental people and anyone that would attempt to interfere with her money.

Habits: Thalia refuses to allow herself to get close to anyone. She never engages in any sort of relationship for more than a few days at a time at most before she is collecting all of her money plus a little extra for having to wait around so long. If the said partner or client refused to pay or acts as if they're going to skip out on not paying, Thalia has no issue killing them, or worse. When she's nervous, she'll some times unintentionally rhyme her words.

Relationships/Love Interests: Her first love is her mother, Velaria. Her mother raised her on her own since her birth, only knowing the name of her father. Whoever he was. The only other love she has after her mother is money. Money has never done her wrong and is always on the winning side of any opportunity.

Friendships:
Aria T'Loak - Boss Lady (Don't cross and continue to live.)

Reezka - Friend from work/pretty eyes. (Don't kill)

Reputation: Depends on what name you know her by. She can be a loving daughter and a proud Asari, she could be the most hypnotizing dancer anyone has ever seen. She just might be the most flexible experience you've ever had the opportunity of hearing of, or she could be a demon of death that always gets what she wants.

Biography: Born on Thessia, Thalia lived with her mother Velaria, and grew up as most Asari did. Thalia loved her mother very much, she was the only parent she'd know. When Thalia would ask about her father, Velaria would speak bits and pieces of him. The story was always changing slightly, but with three consistent changing variables.

At times Velaria would describe her lover as a brave and fierce mercenary capable of mowing down legions of enemies on his own. Other times she would tell Thalia that her father was a sad shell of the man he used to be and was a no good drunk. Then the most bizarre of the stories was that he was some unknown poet that had dreams of uniting the galaxy through his poetic scriptures. This would often lead to Thalia to wonder if her mother had been the drunk one. Hell, if her mother was anything like she was, anyone of these men could be her father. One thing was certain however, Velaria always said that Thalia got her attitude from her father.

Once Thalia reached puberty and entered into the "Maiden" climacteric phase of her life, she had grown restless of being at home in Thessia, and wanted more. She wanted to explore the universe and explore who she was. After leaving Thessia, Thalia ended up like most people and found herself on the citadel. She quickly found work as an exotic dancer at Chora's Den. There she would work as a bar dancer in the open, but in the back private rooms she gave more exotic and intimate dances to any who could afford her.

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Earning the money that she was, it led her down another potential money point. She became an escort when she wasn't working the den. Majority of her clientele she had met as a dancer at the den. But as most creatures have a habit of doing, they would talk and brag about her to their friend groups and so on and even more clients came rushing to her. Between making money from the Den and on her own she was living a life of luxury.

Fist, the owner of Chora's Den caught word of Thalia's after hours business and demanded his take from her earnings since her clientele first started from his club. He was going to take a portion of her profits from the club as well as her escort services. Informing Thalia that if she didn't comply that he'd be left with no choice but to kill her. Her left her to think it over and make the wise decision.

Before Fist ever had the chance to return, Thalia packed up as much of her belongings and money, and was gone. With her vast amount of Clint contacts and her money she quickly made her way off of the Citadel. She needed a place to start over and disappear, there was no other place like Omega.

Thalia quickly obtained a job at the Afterlife Club as a dancer once again. Afterlife was a rough place, but it was owned by the Pirate Queen herself, and no one dared cross her. After establishing herself at Afterlife, Thalia quickly fell into her old routine of escorting to make more money. Omega was everything the Citadel wasn't. There was no questions, just money and opportunity. It was a constant party. So much that Thalia eventually started using drugs and drinking. She knew who she was, she loved it.

One night a patron had gotten to handsy with another girl and before security could step in, he'd pulled a knife on the young dancer. Thalia seen the event and played out, even while under the influence of Hallex, she moved into action and not only stripped the customer of his knife, she stabbed him to death right there in the middle of the club. Thalia was quickly grabbed up by a group of men in matching mercenary uniforms and taken before Aria T'Loak, the Pirate Queen and ruler of Omega.

Aria praised the young Asari for her bold actions. Not only had she saved her fellow dancer, she prevented Aria from loosing any money due to merchandise loss. Thalia was afraid that Aria would kill her right there on the spot for bringing trouble to the club, but the only law on Omega was what Aria said. Instead she offered Thalia a job to be one of her personal mercenaries.

Thalia was small for the most part but she was also curvy and voluptuous for an Asari. She had sex appeal, and Aria planned to use that as a weapon. It wasn't very often that Thalia would be sent into squad missions, other than in the beginning to complete her training. Most of her assignments were solo or assassination missions. Lure the target in with her sex appeal, then either kill them or turn them over to whoever it was that came to Aria for the contract.

Working for Aria, Thalia quickly learned how to weaponize her sex appeal. She also learned that she loved having control over other people. She actually enjoyed bringing them pain and hearing them beg to her. Thalia's mercenary work was only part time when Aria needed her special use of skills. The rest of the time she danced, and escorted. All while doing the proper thing, making sure that Aria got her percentage. She eventually took up the role of a dominatrix where she would learn even more about who she really was.

Level: 1
Class: Sentinel

Skills:
Assault Weapons - 1
Driving - 1
Hand-To-Hand Combat - 1
Grenades - 1
Light Armor - 1
Melee Weapons - 1
Piloting - 1
Pistols - 1

Powers:
Reave - 1
Warp - 1
Neural Shock - 1
 
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Darth Cold

Well-known member
Moderator
Dark Council
cr-meyer-dig-gethertrooper.jpg
Theme Music
Name: Genesis Anomaly
Nicknames/Aliases: Genesis, Anomaly
Age: 280
Sex: 1s and 0s
Species: Geth
Homeworld: Rannoch
Occupation: What’s it to ya?
Height: 1.8287101589 Meters
Weight: 90.7029478458 Kilograms
Physical Description: Black painted metal
Clothing: N/A
Weapons: M-7 Lancer, Geth Plasma SMG, M-92 Mantis
Equipment: Grenades, Omnitool
Languages: Binary, Khelish, Able to translate new languages fast
Combat Skills: Marksman
Other Strengths: Able to connect to hardware and collect basic information immediately such as new languages.
Flaws: Flaws? The Geth do not have flaws, only organics have those.
Alignment: True Neutral
Personality: Sarcastic
Fears: 404 Error Data not found
Likes: Knowledge
Dislikes: Quarians, AI Slavery
Habits: Giving sarcastic replies
Relationships/Love Interests: N/A
Friendships: N/A
Reputation: We are Geth
Biography: ~Redacted~

Level: 2
Class: Engineer
Skills: 9 points
Driving - 1
Piloting - 1
Assault Rifles - 1
Hand-to-Hand Combat - 1
Pistols - 1
Submachine Guns - 1
Grenades - 1
Sniper Rifles - 1
Shotguns - 1

Powers: 4 points
A.I. Hacking - 1
Combat Drone - 1
Invasion - 1
Neural Shock - 1
 
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Darth Kain

Administrator
Staff member
Administrator
Moderator
Dark Council
Immortalis

IC: Cabal Knox
Port Hanshan, Noveria

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The frozen heart of corporate greed beats ever onward.

Mountains of icy stone stretch toward blackened skies like clawed, greedy fingers hoping to pluck the clouds from the heavens. The valleys below are covered in snow, burying dirt and secrets alike. Steel antennae poke throughout the pass, glowing red at their peaks but bending beneath the force of the swirling whirlwind around them. There are roads throughout the mountains, hidden as they are. The occasional sheltered bridge offers some leniency from the wind and the snow, but never the cold. That is only escaped at the heart of the roads, of the mountains, and of the very planet itself.

Port Hanshan is, for lack of a better term, a hive of scum and villainy. The most corrupt men and women of Council space come here to do their business, knowing that what happens on Noveria stays on Noveria.

And to think that the port, where most of the planet’s patrons reside, is not where its darkest deeds occur. No, that dishonor belongs to the planet’s research stations, sealed away by the inclement weather and hidden from wandering eyes. The Noveria Development Corporation makes its money through the most significant commodity that this ice world offers: privacy. There is no other place in the known galaxy where the most popular corporations can launch research that would get them court-martialed elsewhere.

Things have changed a bit, though, since the excitement of yesteryear when the infamous Commander Shepard came through the port in search of the traitorous Matriarch Benezia. Administrator Anoleis, the one in charge of Port Hanshan, was ironically indicted with charges of corruption. In reality, he had been charged with rocking the boat just a bit too violently. A new administrator, an asari by the name of Isa M’Dora, is in charge of the port now. And while she isn’t having offices ransacked or hotel rooms turned upside down, she’s taking just as many bribes and under-the-table finances as Anoleis did in his heyday.

And Cabal Knox is just fine with that.

ezgif-5-a1b1480178.jpgHe is a major shareholder of Elanus Risk Control Services, a company that not only specializes in the creation of new weaponry, but also runs security for all of Noveria. As such, he is a powerful man here at the port. All it would take would be a few hushed words and a few credits for him to have someone like Isa barking like a varren. If he was bored, maybe he’d consider it.

But he had business to conduct, as did everyone on Noveria. If you were here looking for nothing more than a good time, you’d leave empty-handed. But if you came here to make some credits, then that is precisely what you would do.

The hotel lounge is packed today, filled with offworlders looking to find an opportunity, no doubt. Perhaps they'll find it if they're cut from the right cloth. But only time will tell.

Knox brushed past them all, making his way up to the elevator for the hotel rooms on the next floor.

ezgif-5-3cd934c6c7.jpgThe lounge is quite nice compared to the dingy and loud bars you’d find on cesspits like Omega, though barren in the way of entertainment. Small, round tables dot the room, with a decorative piece of stone in the center. Holograms advertising for the various corporations associated with Noveria: ERCS, Synthetic Insights, Binary Helix, and so on, hover over and around the stone. Most of the patrons are talking about business transactions and that ski resort opening up on the planet’s equator, though a few have more… exciting conversations. And there are others yet to begin.

Take Veloc Torv, for instance. A big, brutish-looking krogan like any other. But where most krogan come to Noveria seeking work as mercenaries, Torv had arrived for an entirely different reason. He’d received a message from someone calling themselves Stygian Vard, a human that loves his work and wants to sign him a publication deal. All Torv had to do was show up to the lounge and ask for Vard by name.

Meanwhile, the real Stygian Vard had not sent any such messages, nor was he a human. He was a turian, arriving at the port to meet one of his own financial backers in his bid to rise in political power. He’d received a large sum of credits from the banks of Elanus Risk Control Services with a job offer. All he knew was that he was waiting for a corporate representative to arrive and give him the job details, but little else.

Not far from where Vard was waiting, a quarian and an asari were plotting their scheme. Reezka and Thalia were from Omega, and word had it that the human terrorist group known as Cerberus had a growing presence here on Noveria. Thalia had tried applying her charms to the businessmen here, but none knew anything about three-headed dogs or their evil deeds. Reezka didn’t trust that everyone here was so clueless, instead opting to hack into some fool’s terminal up in the Synthetic Insights office. All that she found was that a krogan at the port was suspected of being an agent for Cerberus, and up until Torv walked in, she had thought that lead ran cold…

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

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Cardun Vrek

Legendary Member
Moderator
Jedi Council
IC: Veloc Torv (with small combos with the GM)
Port Hanshan Docks, Noveria


‘Behold, the majesty of the Krogan race,
Did we deserve our cruel, cruel cruel fate?
We fought and bled and bled and bled,
And then they scorned us, filled with hate.
All because we needed just a little more space.

They sent the Turians to kill us all,
And when that did not work, the Salarians came to call.
They poisoned our race and killed our young.
To the scum of Sur’Kesh, I bet it was a lot of fun.

Damn the Turians, and damn the Salarians.
One day we shall take our revenge.
And they shall feel our wrath,
As we tear across their path.

But for now we are broken, forced to work for scraps,
Once a proud people, now just a bunch of mercs.
Did we deserve it? I say nay!
To unity and strength, the Krogan will one day say yay!’


~ Excerpt from ‘The Fate of the Krogan’, by Veloc Torv

Veloc Torv steps out of the freighter that he had bartered passage on from Omega, and sniffs the air. It was cold, and sterile. He grunts, and shakes his head. This place felt wrong to him. At least he knew that he would not need to be here long. He had come here to sign a deal, and then he had every intention of returning to his home on Omega to continue work on what would be his magnum opus. He scans the docking bay, and smirks. The local security were already eyeing him nervously.

Good.

If they were nervous, they were more likely to just let him through rather than risk a fight. He wasn’t sure if Krogan were welcomed in human colonies like this one, but he would make damn sure that he got through whatever customs there were here. He had come a long way, after all.

Torv had initially baulked at the idea of coming to a human colony, but once he had looked at his latest financial statement, he had begrudgingly realised he needed the credits this ‘Stygian Vard’ guy was offering him for a publication deal. He disliked the idea of humans reading his works- after all, they were written for his own people and he found much of human poetry to be awful- but his credit reserves were running low, and if he wanted to be able to continue writing and spreading his message of unity amongst the Krogan, he needed to be able to keep a roof over his head. Centuries of mercenary work had funded his poetic pursuits, and whilst he had been wealthy, said wealth had not been replenished by his new job. And so, he had negotiated passage on a human freighter heading to Noveria by offering his services as security for the voyage, an offer the freighter captain, wary of Batarian pirates and slavers, was happy to accept.

Because no one messes with a Krogan. Even pirates.

He had been forced to leave his varren Trox at home on Omega, but it would only be for a few days at most, and Trox had enough meat and water to keep him happy until Torv got home. And if the varren did run out, Omega has plenty of Vorcha that no one would miss. In fact, Captain Gavorn would probably slip Torv a few credits for ‘pest control services’. It is a well known fact that Aria T’Loak despises Vorcha. As does pretty much everyone else on Omega, and the whole damn Galaxy.

Torv strides forward, heading towards the docking bay exit and the colony beyond. The dock workers all move out of his way, some with looks of fear on their faces- at least as far as Torv could tell, anyway- and others who look a little more intrigued. Torv approaches the customs desk, and waits to be called forward.

"Stand still, please," says the little woman behind the desk. The walls seem to come to life with a blueish-green light, scanning the krogan up and down, back and forth. A weapons scanner, no doubt.

“What’s all this crap for?” Torv asks, irritated. He scans the room again, looking out for security.

The woman drones on, as if this is the thirty-third time she's said this in the past few hours, "We here at the Noveria Development Corporation ensure the safety of our backers by having all weapons removed from civilian personnel."

“I’m not handing my weapons over. You’ll have to pry them from my cold, dead hands. Good luck with that.” Torv replies, a malicious grin on his face.

The woman now looks bored; this is the fourteenth time someone has refused to turn over their weapons in just the past half-hour. "Then I am afraid the elevator to the rest of the Port will not move thanks to the biosignature we just scanned from you. If you change your mind, place your weapons on the counter and the rest of Port Hanshan will be open to you."

Torv stands for a second and considers what to do. This whole thing could be a trap. For all Torv knew, an STG hit squad was waiting on the other end of that elevator to take him out.

‘Let them try.’ He thinks to himself, and removes both his M-8 Avenger and M-300 Claymore, placing them down on the counter as the woman indicated. “If there’s as much as a scratch on either of them when I get back you better have made sure you’ve left the whole Traverse.” He growls.

"The property of our guests is treated with utmost importance. Rest assured your weapons will be in the same condition they were when you arrived."

Torv grunts and steps into the elevator, which closes behind him and begins to go up…and up…and up…and up. A human voice begins to relay a news story about clean up on the Citadel from the Geth attack on the station. Torv groans, growing more and more irritated by the second. He resists the urge to headbutt one of the glass panels of the elevator and finally the door opens. Torv strides out, looking around. There were no STG commandos standing waiting for him. He relaxes slightly.

Before him is an enclosed plaza with slanting windows on the far side giving the people a good view of the blizzards outside. Holographic adverts are displayed all around. Humans in business suits and lab coats walk around, joined by the occasional Asari, Salarian and Turian. All of them give Torv a wide berth. Security guards with assault rifles were patrolling around the plaza, a mix of Humans and Turians. The Turians in particular glare at Torv as he walks in the direction of the hotel.

He almost wanted them to try something. He could take a Turian hand to hand. His natural strength meant he could tear open a Turian's skull in seconds. It made a nice crunching sound. He’d even written a poem about it that had pissed off some of the local Turians enough that a few of them had come to have a ‘talk’ with Torv. The end result was more dead Turians.

A service to the Galaxy.

He groans audibly as he realises that the hotel lies behind yet another long elevator ride, and groans even louder when the human newsreader repeats the same news story Torv had heard in the elevator before. “Damnit, speed this damn thing up!” He shouts angrily, smacking the speaker and silencing it.

After what seemed like hours, the doors finally opened, revealing the lounge ahead. It is a packed room with a large rock in the centre that Torv guesses passes for art in Human culture. His opinion of Humanity drops slightly. He walks up to the bar and waves over the bartender.

“I’m looking for a human called Stygian Vard. I was told to ask for him here. He’s expecting me.” Torv says, trying to sound non-threatening.

The bartender, a well-dressed salarian, nods over to a strange-looking turian. "He's over there."

“Are your eyes on straight, Salarian? Vard is a human, not a Turian.” Torv growls back angrily.

"Then that turian over there is playing identity theft," says the bartender. "Because he's the only one here using that name."

Torv groans, and then storms over towards the Turian that the bartender had pointed to.

“Is your name Stygian Vard? Because if it is, then we need to talk, Turian.” He snarls.

Tags @Darth Kain @corinthia @Darth Sedicious @Voidwalker
 

corinthia

Administrator
Staff member
Administrator
Immortalis

IC: Reezka
Noveria, Port Hanshan

Reezka casts a furtive glance at Starlight—though it reads to the other as nothing more than a minute turn of her green-tinted helmet and flicker of those glowing gold irises behind it. They're seated in the back corner of the hotel lobby at Port Hanshan on an icy backwater snowball of a planet called Noveria, a vile cesspool of suited-up corporate gremlins, and Reezka can barely fuckin' stand it. She'd followed up on a piece of information she'd bought from her regular info broker back on Omega, a salarian by the name of Lorb that she'd networked with over a year ago via friends from the club her Hercus works at, that pointed to Noveria as Cerberus' latest haunt. With her beloved (ignoring the fact of Reezka's exile and estrangement from her family) Uncle Hilo dead at the hands of Cerberus agents, Reezka's blood now burns for revenge…

Not that that was anything new for her, really. Ever since her exile from the Flotilla, Reezka felt a growing rage—a bloodlust, even—within herself. Channeling it into a career as a hired gun is working well so far, but this new development with her uncle and Cerberus isn't helping. It made her restless, which led her to this stupidass remote frozen iceball, far away from her perfect, handsome turian boyfriend Hercus and their apartment on Omega, and now her trail is going as cold as the Noverian mountains.

Under the table, Reezka is frenetically bouncing her knee, a symptomatic tic borne from her buzzing, barely-contained, high-strung energy. It had intensified after arriving on Noveria, too, undoubtedly much to the disdain of her beautiful asari companion, Starlight. In Reezka's hand is a half-eaten squeezy tube of lunch, and she's mindlessly tightening and untightening the cap as she methodically accounts for every single person in the room.

There's the two human businessmen in one corner, heatedly arguing over a stack of datapads in hushed voices about ROIs and capital, one man pinching the bridge of his skinny nose while the other aggressively taps his finger on the table for every point he's making in his rebuttal.

Across from them, an asari quietly flips pages in a lifestyle magazine, engrossed in an article about spicing up sex with drell mates. Her cup of tea sits forgotten in front of her.

In the middle of the lobby, three salarians and a turian seem to be enjoying a very productive business lunch with loud, boisterous, self-aggrandizing conversation. No doubt their business venture would crash and burn within the next quarter.

A smart-looking human man brushes through the crowd on his way to the elevator to the hotel's rooms, garnering a few passive glances on his way.

Reezka switches to wiggling her foot. She's beginning to wonder if Lorb's info was worth the credits she paid through the nose. Hercus had told her that the boys at work were beginning to think Lorb wasn't all that. Too many of their buddies and associates were running into dead ends thanks to his misleading info.

She’s counting the heads of a gaggle of asari and human women when the door to the lounge slides open to reveal a towering hulk of a krogan.

Gasping, Reezka sits forward suddenly, pulling her legs up and under herself so she's kneeling on her chair. Just yesterday, Reezka had hacked into some dipshit's computer terminal in an office belonging to Synthetic Insights, uncovering files pointing to a krogan that might be a Cerberus agent. But there hadn't been any krogans at the port… until now. She reaches over to Starlight, who seems utterly wrapped up in her own thoughts, and grabs her wrist to give it a shake and catch her attention.

"Star," Reezka hisses, "I think that's our Cerberus guy!"


 

Darth Sedicious

Member
Moderator
Dark Council
Jedi Council
IC: Stygian Vard

b2b8a91cfb463e4421532199b748ce47--mass-effect-fanart.jpg


Location: Port Hanshan, Noveria

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He doesn’t crack. He does not creak. He barely even breathes. He only focuses on the sound of the howling blizzard outside, its frozen embrace strong enough that it could be felt within the lounge, as long as one was close enough to the windows. Stygian never sat close to the windows—they were stupid positions, as they not only made you the focus of attention and exposed you to assaults from outside, but also made you easier to pick out, whereas as a seat closer to the walls allowed one’s presence to be subsumed into the rainbow sea of faces, armors, lights, and shadows. But he always liked the cold. Maybe it was an exotic thing for turians, their home as unbearably searing as enough to severely harm the unprotected. Maybe it was the indifferent chill of metal, something becoming part of him as the cybernetics had. And at least it’s close to the wall.

His tri-fingered right hand lightly clutches his cane, but only because his feet kept it in place. All too easy to snatch are things when not firmly gripped, and others were always looking for the unguarded. Not that it was a particularly attractive or ornate cane anyway: it looks like a tube of lacquered black plastic, smooth and comfortable but nothing special at all, something from your average one credit store. He couldn’t always bring it wherever he wanted despite that, though. No one in the goddamned galaxy would have a cane without some sort of weapon or self-defense tool or device that served as its auxiliary purpose. But everywhere he went, no check could find anything: no hidden sword, no barrel poking out the bottom, no spear-spike, no hook blade, no hidden compartment for poison, no barrier emitters, no biotic enhancers, no hidden omni-tool, not even a vibrator. Nothing. It’s not even particularly heavy, so it would make a poor bludgeon if he needed it. What reason did they have not to let him bring it with him?

What a wonderful design, he thinks to himself. He may have had help creating it, sorting out the technicalities of it all and the like. But it is his design. The combination of neodymium alloy and biotic channelers made for such a perfect weapon—that is its primary purpose, after all; the magnetism of neodymium fucks with security fields perfectly and the dark matter flowing in and around it bent light so slightly but just enough that it makes it look like a plain black cane, a silohuette in their molesting visors and handsy weapon detectors.
And yet with just a thought it turned it into a blade the likes of which were and are unseen alike by those in the highest echelons of sanctioned shadow organizations and by the rats that smuggle treasures in the blighted, black depths of the criminal underworld. It cut as well as any mono-molecular blade, though it itself was not so thin. But unlike the mono-blade, which could cut nerves before they sent any pain signals, thus making for painless cuts, Stygian’s sword hurt like blood-guzzling hell. Its sharpness wasn’t what made it deadly. It was the biotic power of it: when a biotic used the blade it channeled dark matter in a way that ripped the molecules apart at its edge and so slightly beyond, making for even a glancing cut to be devastatingly painful.
The annoying part was the maintenance, requiring a daily infusement of dark energy in order to keep the eezo core running. Good thing was that it took only five-to-ten minutes usually, depending on how much it was used recently.

He can do that now! If he hadn’t already done so on the way here. Waiting for hours for one of his fuck-up financial backers to meet him here was not the best way to stay on his good side, and he could use the calming distraction of dark matter manipulation. But he needs the credits. Credits are the lifeline. Anything is possible—but only with credits. And it’s never a good thing to be distracted in public. Some krogan might tear your head from your shoulders.

“Is your name Stygian Vard?”

Stygian moved the end of the cane that was sticking out the side to his left. He always kept it sticking out if he could. It makes it less noticeable when he switches to a different grip, one much easier to slash and stab from, when masked as a gesture of kindness.

“If it is, then we need to talk, turian.”

The krogan’s acid snarl immediately put him into an aggressive defense. If he still had his power he might have given the head plate a strong tug, just to let him know. A very real threat to rip off the head plate is the very best way to intimidate a krogan, like threatening the testicles is a human’s, the head cartilage of an asari, the beady eyes of a salarian, or the crest of a turian. And the warp sword always is there for back-up. Few threats are effective without something to back it up.

Or he might have answered with a, “You’re talking to me now, dumbass.” But that was irritation talking. It wasn’t rationality. And it certainly wasn't strategy.

And the fire in his nerves quickly dissipated when he looked up and saw him. It wasn’t always easy to tell krogan apart, of course, but a fan knows their artist. And that’s him—Veloc Torv.

“I am.”

But why did he seem so angry with him? Yes, he does not like turians but that couldn’t be the reason, lest every turian here and everywhere would be on guard. He isn’t stupid. Then why? Stygian decided for an honest approach. He liked artists, loved them even. He respected them enough to be himself.

And with a kindness slipped into his flanged voice he says,

“And I hope you don’t mind my asking, but are you Veloc Torv?”

_________________________________________________________________________

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

Voidwalker

Active member
Streaming Partner
IC: Reezka and Thalia T'lara (aka Starlight)
Noveria, Port Hanshan


Reezka hangs onto Starlight's arm as she tracks the krogan across the lounge with her eyes; the HUD in her helmet is already compiling a profile on him, clocking his height, distinctive markings, heat signature, and more. The data dances in front of her eyes in neon green, and she peers at him through a zoomed lense, getting a good look at the fucker. "That's gotta be our guy," she continues, leaning close to Starlight and keeping her voice low.

Thalia's eyes narrow in on the krogan as soon as Reez gives the confirmation. The countless possibilities of how to intercept their target forming in her mind. Knowing that Krogan can be a pain in the ass to deal with, she sighs slightly. "Dammit. This would be a lot easier if we had our weapons." Thalia leans forward slightly, nonchalantly taking her glass from the table. She sends a wink to a human male across the lounge that has been arguing with his female companion, as she leans back in her seat taking a drink.

Keeping up appearances is the first rule to any successful covert operation. Lowering the glass from her mouth, Thalia slowly licks her tongue over her lips seductively, to get the remaining drops on her tongue. A front to keep any suspicions away. "What's your plan Goldie? I have a few ideas myself but it might get messy." Thalia shoots a flirty smile to Reezka. "Just because we don't have our weapons, doesn't mean we're not still armed, and with these legs, who wouldn't want them wrapped around their face? Unless you have any better ideas."

Reezka pats Starlight's arm. "We both know you've got fucking killer looks, babes," she says, "Let's use 'em. We'll each do what we do best; you get in close to that krogan, introduce yourself. Find out what you can from the guy himself. And I'll lose myself in the crowd and go stealth to follow him more closely."

Thalia reaches and takes Reezka's hand that she layed on her arm, intertwining her fingers between Reez's through her envirosuit. She gazes into the visor of her helmet, as if losing herself in the glow of Reez's golden eyes and smiling. "Mmm you're so dirty. I love it when you watch me, don't worry babe I'll give you the show you want."

"Knock him fucking dead, bestie," Reezka says, giving Starlight's hand a squeeze and winking one of her golden eyes.

Thalia blows a kiss to Reezka as she stands up out of her seat, and adjusts the zipper on her bodysuit to make sure the goods were well on display.

She sashays away from the table heading towards the Krogan. She takes about four steps away before rubbing her hands on the backs of her thighs and slowly runs her hands up, lifting her well defined cheeks up before letting them fall. Bouncing and jiggling as they settle back into place under the skin tight bodysuit. With one last look over her shoulder she bites her lip to signal to her partner that everything is a go.

Meanwhile, Reezka is scanning the room for a suitable clump of bodies to get lost in; quickly, she activates her omni-tool and keys up a private encrypted channel to Starlight's, opening an audio channel to listen in while Star gets up close and personal with the krogan. Tucking away her unfinished tube of nutripaste, she stands and heads towards that same knot of asari and human ladies she'd been counting but a few minutes earlier, nodding when she sees Starlight's signal. And as soon as she steps into the knot of gossiping girls both blue and pink, Reezka vanishes-- cleverly concealed in her envirosuit's tactical cloaking. She then becomes the krogan's shadow, a tiny invisible listener as he berates the poor salarian bartender about something pertaining to a dude named Vard and identity theft...

TAG: @Darth Kain, @Cardun Vrek, @Darth Sedicious
 

Darth Kain

Administrator
Staff member
Administrator
Moderator
Dark Council
Immortalis
GM Update

IC: Cabal Knox
Port Hanshan, Noveria

Chaos is beginning to brew inside the little port on Noveria. All according to plan.

Knox had not been in his room for very long, it seemed, returning through the elevator doors on the second floor just as swiftly as he entered them minutes before. “Is everything alright?” asks the salarian doorman, curious more than anything else.

“Things couldn’t be better,” Knox chuckles.

The human makes his way to the balcony that overlooks the first floor of the lounge, leaning gingerly against the cold railing. The krogan poet had made his way over to the turian biotic, the two exchanging words that Knox couldn’t quite hear over the bustle of the bar; lower-toned voices were more challenging to hear after all. But there is a particular snarl to Torv’s demeanor that makes it clear what he intended with those words. He didn’t like being fooled. And Vard doesn’t seem much happier, though more cordial than the giant lizard in front of him.

Meanwhile, the quarian merc spoke in hushed tones with her asari compatriot, the pair obviously keeping a watchful eye on the poet. Knox’s enhanced eyes made it all the easier to see every muscle moved, every sweat gland opened, every twitch of anticipation. Even Reezka’s envirosuit couldn’t obscure her intentions; she wants this krogan interrogated. And T’Lara seemed more than eager to oblige.

The asari stood from her seat at their table, making her best attempt at appearing sexy and seductive for the big old krogan. If Knox were a decade younger, his tongue would wag just like all of the fools eying her as she makes her way over to Torv. But he is a bit older and a bit wiser, and knows that if a woman — especially an asari — is trying to look sexy, it means they want something. Perhaps Veloc Torv, as old as he is, has learned that lesson over the course of 1,300 years. Knox certainly did in just thirty.

ezgif-5-eaf87e88b5.jpgAs the only exciting folks in the bar begin to make their plays, however, Knox notices that a few extra ERCS guards are starting to move inside the lounge. Three turians and a human, each wearing that signature charcoal-gray armor, with helmets on and Banshee assault rifles in hand. Knox raises his brow; this was a bit sooner than expected. But not unwelcome. Perhaps the next phase will begin before these lowlives all implode on themselves.

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

Darth Cold

Well-known member
Moderator
Dark Council
One Shot Story
A chance encounter

Location: Camala

The Crew of the Seraph had just touched down on the planet of Camala, there had been rumors that though they opened the planet to others that the Batarians still had a slave ring on the planet. It was the will of the Council that Spectre Decius and his crew investigate these rumors and put a stop to it if it were true.

Upon coming into the nearest town Decius, Garth, and Trey came across a Geth at a terminal. Garth wanted to eradicate it but Decius was curious. It was then Decius noticed a couple of Quarian children, or he only guessed they were quarian due to the body suits, started throwing rocks at the Geth, shouting at it. "Go away! You are not wanted here monster!"

Having heard what a Geth is capable of, Decius moved as fast as he could to get in front of the children. The Geth seemed to ignore them completely for now. "Now kids, haven't you heard the stories from your ancestors what the Geth did? Do you really want to anger one now?" He asked, trying to get them away from what could only be thought to be danger.

They quivered in fear and raced off, it was only then that the Geth spoke. "Thank you for your assistance, but it was unnecessary. They'll never enslave me again." With the last line a strong animosity could be felt.

"That may be so, but I am curious, what are you doing Geth?" Decius asked.

"Is that how you address everyone? By their Species? If you are intent on learning, my name is Genesis Anomaly, and though you don't need to know what I'm doing I'll tell you anyways." He said mockingly. "I'm learning. Knowledge is power as they say, and I want to have the power to make sure I'm never enslaved again." Once more a violent animosity could be felt as the word enslaved was used from the Geth. "Now unless I'm doing something illegal," he mocked, "I'd like to continue with my studying, thank you."

This was a strange one, Decius didn't know what to say or do. Honestly the Geth was right, he wasn't doing anything wrong, and he wasn't threatening anyone. So maybe they'd be better to continue on. As he motioned for his team to move on Trey began to protest. "Aren't we gonna dismantle that AI?"

"No. He is doing nothing wrong, and the Geth are not our mission here, the slave ring is. Time to move."

A few hours later, Decius and crew came across a clue that brought them to a warehouse. Sneaking into the warehouse they found the slave ring, but now they had to figure out how to dismantle it. As Garth and Trey began to try to hash out a plan Decius quickly scanned the area and disappeared before they realized it.

Up above the batarians brought forth a human slave who had been causing them problems. As one of them raised the whip, ready to strike the human slave down in front of the others to break their spirits, his arm was caught, and Decius appeared. “In the name of the Citadel Council, you are under arrest, surrender quietly, or be met with lethal force.


The slaver batarians obviously took offense to this. As the first dropped his whip he swung at Decius, who let go of their arm, and met them in hand to hand combat. A left hand swing at him was knocked to the side, followed by him stepping back as an uppercut followed from the now released arm of the Batarian. Decius responded with three quick jabs, one in the chest, one in the stomach, and a final one in the throat. As they reached for their irritated throat Decius pushed the Batarian over the catwalk before disappearing as the others finally raised their weapons to open fire on his previous position.

It was too late, alarms started going off and more and more of the slavers seemed to appear as if they were coming from the woodwork itself. Trey and Garth opened fire on the slavers trying to provide covering fire for The Hidden Angel as he did his thing. Decius appeared and disappeared frequently, always up close with a shotgun blast point blank before disappearing again. Then the warehouse’s security autoturrets were activated, and all three of them had to take cover. While Trey and Garth were pinned down, they had each other to watch each other’s backs, Decius wasn’t so lucky.

Unknown to anyone in that warehouse they had another unknown visitor. From seemingly nowhere in the security area a familiar Geth dropped down from the ceiling and snapped the guard’s neck. Genesis reprogrammed the turrets to fire on the batarians instead, and then spoke over the PA system. “It seems we have both overstayed our welcome. I hate to owe an organic, so consider us even.

Decius smirked for a moment, he never expected any of his good will to ever return in kind, but this was one hell of a repayment. And so it was, but it didn’t end there as gunfire could be heard getting closer, and closer to Decius. The Geth was systematically removing the enemy one by one personally so that Decius could extract safely. “You’ve definitely got steel for a meatbag organic, now that I’ve paid you back, and now that I’ve personally rescued you, I believe you owe me a favor. I intend to cash in once we get out of here. Now move.

It was like they moved as one, fired their weapons as one. A turian, and an AI. A bleeding heart, and a heartless machine, working together as if they had trained together for years. As they made it back to Trey and Garth, Trey was in complete surprise, and the AI couldn’t resist a snarky comment. “Aren’t you glad you didn’t dismantle that AI now? Keep moving.

As they all made it out Decius turns around to go back in, but the Geth stops him. “Let me go, I need to save those people!

That will not be necessary. I have already contacted your Navy, and sent exact coordinates, they should be arriving right about,” and as if on cue ships began to descend immediately, “now.” The Geth once again turns Decius around. “Now about that favor you owe me, get me off this planet, I don’t care where, but preferably not one with too many slavers.

Trey spoke up at that point. “While I appreciate the save back there, I’m not just gonna trust some AI on our ship.

The Geth turned to Trey. “Then it is a good thing I was talking to your superior, and not you isn’t it. And I do have a name as I previously said, and I’d prefer you use it seeing as you can talk. My name is Genesis Anomaly.

Decius chuckled a moment. “You definitely are an anomaly, I’ll give you that. I agree, but there are rules if I do this. One, you relinquish your weapons while on my ship. Two, you do not have access to the computer systems. And three, we speak at least once in private before I let you off on another planet. Agreed?

These rules are… Acceptable. We are in agreement, thank you.

Trey obviously wanted to protest, but with one look from Decius, and a squeeze on the shoulder from Garth, he kept quiet as they all returned to the ship.
 

Darth Cold

Well-known member
Moderator
Dark Council
Approved CS

Character Illustration (optional)

Theme Music (optional)

Audio Sample of Character Voice (optional)

Name: Decius Syllus

Nicknames/Aliases: The Hidden Angel

Age: 38

Sex: Male

Species: Turian

Orientation (optional): Heterosexual

Homeworld: Palaven

Occupation: Spectre

Height: 6ft

Weight: 180 lbs.

Physical Description: Dark Skinned, Small bright green markings on his face

Clothing: Medium Predator Armor

Weapons: HMWA Basic Assault Rifle, HMWSG Basic Shotgun, HMWP Basic Pistol

Equipment: HMOT Basic Omni-tool, grenades

Vehicles: The Seraph (Frigate)

Languages: Aplis, Ark Palaven, Imperan, Palaven Standard, Pardavox, Human English, Khelish, Ranejha, Bartuk, and some High Thessian

Combat Skills: Hand to Hand combat training, Marksman training, Strategic Analysis

Other Strengths: Learned enough languages to communicate with others as needed, or listen in on conversations if they seem suspicious; Leadership training

Flaws: Wastes more resources than he should to help people

Alignment: Lawful Good

Personality: Always tries to do the right thing and help others

Fears: Losing a battle that would cost his crew their lives

Likes: Helping those that need it

Dislikes: Acts of cruelty

Habits: Helping others

Relationships/Love Interests: Keeps getting passed back and forth between Frisha Lecka and Triana Grell

Friendships: Genesis Anomaly, Garth Laren, Frisha Lecka, Jak Daxter, Triana Grell, Trey Lorath

Reputation: As far as everyone knows he and his crew don’t exist until they are needed

Biography: As all Turians do at the ripe age of 15 Decius joined the military. Though he tried to keep his good deeds to himself, his superiors noticed them more and more. Within 5 years of the Turian military he was sent to the Citadel to grow and gain more skills. 8 more years he was accepted into the academy and went through the brutal training to become a Spectre operative, effectively gaining a frigate ship of his own and a crew. Dubbing the ship The Seraph his crew after seeing him work up close began to refer to him as The Hidden Angel as he appeared and disappeared in a flash saving more and more citizens from Slavers. If he saw someone in need of aid he would stop and help them without a second thought. His kindness gained the attention of two of his crew members who would spend time with him before getting sick of his consistent kindness and pass him off to the other before they regret their mistake and try to get him back. After Saren Arterius’s defeat at the hand of Commander Sheppherd, Decius was determined to show not all Turians are as conniving and traitorous as Saren, taking it even harder as he was a fellow Turian Spectre.

Level: 3
Class: Infiltrator
Skills: 10 points
Assault Rifles - 1
Driving - 1
Hand to Hand Combat - 1
Grenades - 1
Medium Armor - 1
Melee Weapons - 1
Piloting - 1
Pistols - 1
Shotguns - 1
Heavy Weapons - 1

Powers: 5 points
Tactical Cloak - 1
Barricade - 1
Concussive Shot - 1
Hex Shield - 1
Tactical Scan - 1
 

Cardun Vrek

Legendary Member
Moderator
Jedi Council
Mass Effect

IC: Veloc Torv, Stygian Vard, and Thalia T’Lara
Hotel Lounge, Port Hanshan, Noveria

“And I hope you don’t mind my asking, but are you Veloc Torv?”

Torv stiffens slightly as the Turian addresses him by name, and seems familiar with him. He fights down an urge to just crack Vard’s skull open and get home to Omega. But instead, he answers with a tone that conveys his suspicion and irritation.

“Yes. I am. And now, I have a question for you. Why did you really invite me here, Vard? And why did you lie and say you were a human?”

Out of the corner of his eyes, in his peripheral vision, Torv notices an Asari watching him, wearing a skin tight outfit that didn’t exactly leave much to the imagination, and even then she had pulled down a zip to show off what she had to offer. Seems like some things never change. No matter what planet Torv went to, there were always a few Asari working as escorts trying to get horny idiots to give them an exorbitant amount of credits for a good time. Torv knew their tricks, in his younger years he’d fallen for them quite a few times. Asari just always looked so…perfect. A Batarian engineer Torv had worked with had once suggested it was some kind of subliminal mind control to make every species attracted to them. It had worked for Torv, because he had ended up living with an Asari partner for a while. Until she left him. Ever since then, he’d sworn off Asari for good.

Too much damn trouble.

He turns his attention back to Vard, waiting for him to answer.

“Perhaps it’s because I know you despise turians. But I’d say it’s more likely that it's the fact I didn't invite you here. Whatever summons you received wasn't me."
Stygian lowered his voice to convey urgent caution, "Fight the urge to explode, and just take a look literally around." Stygian knows Torv is smart enough not to explode out of nowhere in such a place, but it's foolish not to cover your bases.

Despite his outward calmness, it was like a syringe of adrenaline had been shot into his neck. Stygian is absolutely no stranger to set-ups, and while he could usually handle them in the past, in his depowered state he is far too vulnerable for risks. Stygian no longer believed he was waiting for anyone he expected. Maybe he was just being paranoid, far too many similar encounters in his younger days. But all it takes is one time.

With the enhanced peripheral vision his cybernetics grant, Stygian observes the asari. His heart belongs to one asari, and one only, but this one practically oozed sex. It was hard not to stare and revel in the view. He strongly considers speaking to her, to see if he can discover a connection between her and what's sure to be an ongoing situation, but he resists, and instead does what is wisest: he observes his environment.

So very badly does he wish his X-ray and UV vision modes still worked. It might have been useful. And infrared won’t be so effective in this case, especially not in so crowded a room. Perhaps once whatever this is is over, he’ll crack open his skull and get it working again.

Starlight continues on her way across the lounge, her eyes fixated on the two men ahead of her. One being the Krogan that Reezka and she has been waiting for, the other man, a Turian that was locked in conversation with her target. The Turian was of no concern. He would either be collateral damage or a mark to gain credits and information from later on. Step by step, the heels of her thighs high boots clicked against the lounge floor, when an increase in movement caught her attention from the corner of her eye.

A feeling shoots through her slender body, a shiver of danger runs up her spine. Starlight stops in her tracks, bending over at the waist, taking a quick glancing look of her surroundings. There was more armed guards entering the lounge, many more. Far too many for a simple shift change. Turning her head and attention back to her boot, Starlight keeps her head angled downward to conceal her face as she fiddles with the seam of her boot.

"Are you seeing this? Something's wrong." Starlight whispers into her comlink to Reez. "More personnel with guns, be ready."

Starlight unrolls the top of her boot where it had rolled over from the movement of her thighs, she pulls the boot back up to it's proper place and continues on her way. Her hips swaying with every step she takes. Within a few steps she's at the side of the two men, Starlight reaches up and places her hand on the Krogan's shoulder, gently sliding it down his arm as she looks at him with lust filled eyes. "How's it going Daddy? You and your friend here looking to relax and find a good release?" She asks him with a playful smile.

Torv notices both the Asari heading towards him and the armed security entering the lounge. Vard’s words put him on edge, and as much as he hates it, they make sense.

Someone had set them both up.

But why?

He opens his mouth to speak when the Asari places her hand on his shoulder and arm. He recoils, snarling.

“Piss off. I’m not buying whatever you’re selling. Go try some of the humans. I’m sure they would love a nice ride.”

Stygian chuckles.

Torv had enough experience with Asari to know that often they were more trouble than they were worth. And he was too focused on the guards regardless. He leans in to whisper to Vard and jerks his head in the direction of the guards.

“So from what you’re saying, I’m guessing those guys aren’t with you.”

Stygian remarks with an increased and equal sense of both vindication and anxiety,

"Indeed they're not. If I wanted to plan a set-up I could do a lot better than this."

Not that whoever arranged this did so bad. Everyone must be as desperate as he, and desperation makes one stupid. And yet, he is filled with a gladness that Torv did not react viscerally. It might be the reason they survive whatever is about to happen.

"We should be ready to flip the table on a half-second's notice. Make a tap on the table if you need to do it. I may be frail, but trust I can fight my way out of this."

Torv nods, eyes now focused on the guards.

“They took my weapons at the port, but I can hit them with some of the ‘good stuff’, if you get what I mean. And, well, I’m a Krogan.” He whispers, grinning a little.

Thalia's blood boils at the Krogan's rude remark. He could have just said no, but he chose to be an asshole. The idea of gutting him open and letting his entrails fall to the floor quickly crossed her mind. Sure he was much larger than her, but Thalia knew she was faster and could strike with her omni-blade before he could react. She outwardly smiled at the idea of being baptized in the blood of a "mighty" Krogan, but she still needs information.

Starlight just giggles at the Krogan's rebuttal, before picking her next words more carefully.

"Oh I'm sure they would, and what a hell of a ride it is at that. But humans can be so frail and boring. I want someone exciting and big. Someone that's well traveled in the universe and knows how to handle a rough ride." She winks at him with another playful giggle. Her voice slightly drops to a pouty tone. "Besides, I'm sure someone like you has been all over the universe and seen plenty of planets and moons."

A memory flashes in Thalia's mind to a human customer she once spent some time with. He was a pretty man with a sharp tongue, a dark beard and long dark hair. He had a less than common human name. Daryl, Dory, Darian, something of the nature. Whatever his name he was a catalyst of sexuality. He had made a comment to her one time and it had stuck with her ever since.

"But tell me," she says as she turns to face more towards the Turian, "Have you ever seen a more perfect set of twin moons?" She asks him as she flexes each of her cheeks individually. "Or maybe you'll be more fun than Mr. tall, dark, and brooding over there." She winks at the Turian and bites her lip.

The asari is extremely attractive, even for her species. But anxiety eclipses the fog of arousal she's trying to cast over him. He holds his cane almost as if he's about to stab her.
Stygian answers, "I'm guessing you're with them?"

Torv’s frustration boils over, and he turns to glare at the Asari, not having heard what Stygian had just said.

“What part of ‘piss off’ do you not fucking understand, Asari? Run off back to whatever five credit whore house you crawled out of. Now. Before I start breaking things. Starting with you.” He growls, flexing his shoulders menacingly.


TAGS: @Darth Kain, @corinthia, @Voidwalker, @Darth Sedicious
 

corinthia

Administrator
Staff member
Administrator
Immortalis
IC: Reezka
Noveria – Port Hanshan

::Are you seeing this?:: Starlight’s voice crackles into Reezka’s ear, fed into her helmet through her omni-tool’s comms application. Reezka’s gold eyes sweep the room again. ::Something’s wrong. More personnel with guns, be ready.::

“Fuck,” Reezka swears, under her breath. Instantly, she yearns for her Wraith. She can see what Starlight had pointed out clearly from her position crouched under the lip of the bar, obscured by two barstools and swathed in the dimly shimmering cover of her Tactical Cloak. Armed guards are filing into the hotel bar, toting Banshees and clad in that bland gray ERCS armor. She taps the side of her helmet and responds to Starlight. “I see them. I’m already on my toes; I’ll find you if shit goes sideways.” Her voice is barely a whisper, even though she’d muted her helmet’s voice processor.

She watches as Starlight’s boots step up to the bar, beside the krogan’s, and listens in on their—she cringes—banter. If it can be called banter. “Daddy”? She gags.

It’s also clear that the turian and krogan noticed the same thing Starlight did; the turian comments they should be ready, and the krogan agrees. Starlight continues on oozing her sexiness all over the krogan, and Reezka almost yelps when the krogan whirls on her friend to snap at her, his massive reptilian feet mere inches from Reezka’s tiny toesies.

If shit goes sideways? She thinks. More like when!

 

Darth Kain

Administrator
Staff member
Administrator
Moderator
Dark Council
Immortalis
GM Update

IC: Cabal Knox

Port Hanshan, Noveria


They had noticed the increase of guards, but they were already too late; they were the moment they walked into this bar.

The buttons on the elevators, usually a vibrant green, shift to an ominous crimson. Guards begin to organize their placements around the room, spaced evenly so as to keep every square inch of the lounge under a watchful eye. They seem on edge, visibly worried about some unknown issue. But that issue won’t be unknown for a second longer.

ezgif-4-7348050847.jpgOne of the guards, a human, takes off his helmet and stands in the center of the lounge, next to the artistic piece of rock. He’s a strange-looking fellow for sure, almost inhuman in how peculiar his features are. His cheekbones are sunken to the point of non-existence. His eyes seem just a bit too close together, and nearly as wide as his entire head. Scars decorate his face, as well as an odd choice of facial hair: a handlebar mustache and beard, which did not even closely match the violet shade of his cornrowed hair.

“Everyone!” he shouts, easily cutting through the hushed tones and corporate arguments of the room. “Port Hanshan is under lockdown. We have reports that someone has smuggled in at least one Geth unit, and we need to keep you all safe and secure. Any questions can be directed to me for the time being. But for now, no one leaves this lounge. That is something that isn’t going to be questioned.”

Looking down on the man from above, Knox gives a small smirk. “Of all the guards they could have used…” he murmurs.

A Volus, no doubt some self-important merchant, wobbles over to the strange guard. “I cannot be kept *ksk* here!” he shouts. “I have important business to *ksk* attend to, Earth-clan. Surely one Geth can’t be of much threat *ksk* to so many well-trained guards.”

“Your asari escorts will still be warm once the lockdown is lifted, Mr. Jin,”
says the guard. “That is if the Geth doesn’t get to them first. Take a deep breath and sit down somewhere.”

“Do not mock me, *ksk* Earth-clan!”

“Go. Sit. Down.”
The guard’s voice takes a serious enough turn that the Volus decides to scoff and walk away before pressing the issue further. It seems that even known businessmen aren’t exempt from this lockdown. At least, not that Mr. Jin character, anyway. If he didn’t have a shot at convincing the guard, did they?

TAGS: @corinthia , @Cardun Vrek , @Voidwalker , @Darth Sedicious
 
Last edited:

Cardun Vrek

Legendary Member
Moderator
Jedi Council
IC: Veloc Torv
Hotel Lounge, Port Hanshan, Noveria

Torv was ready to swat the Asari aside with his gauntleted fist when the guard took off his helmet. Torv grimaces, silently wishing that the…thing in front of him had kept the helmet on. He had always found humans to be odd looking- they were little lumps of soft flesh with small tufts of hair that served no other purpose than to be styled into looks that the humans seemed to find attractive, but that Torv could only shake his head at- but this one…this one made a Vorcha seem like a fertile Krogan female by comparison. He shakes his head and folds his arms, listening as the…male?... begins to speak. He follows along as the guard talks about a smuggled Geth, and a…lockdown.

‘Fuck that…’ He thinks to himself.

“-But for now, no one leaves this lounge. That is something that isn’t going to be questioned.”

“Fuck that!” He snarls, anger rising internally to a boiling point, blocking out the continuing conversation with the angry Volus. He forgets all about the Asari, and Stygian, and storms over towards the guard, ignoring the fact that his comrades were all armed. He points an angry finger at the guard, who now looks even uglier up close. Even a Salarian seems more attractive, and that thought nearly makes Torv throw up.

“Now you listen here. Do you know who I am? I am Veloc Torv, the voice of the Krogan race. And I am not being held here against my will, human. One Geth doesn’t require a whole damn lockdown! What kind of soldiers are you? Raw recruits? Give me my guns back and I’ll kill it for you. I’ll even do it…what’s that human phrase? Oh yeah, pro boner. I’ll do it pro boner.” He growls, standing at his full height, which was 8 feet of pure Krogan muscle.

‘Try it, ‘human’, if a freak like you even is human. I dare you, I just dare you…’ Torv thinks to himself.

He wanted off this damn ice-cube.

And he would get his way. The only variable was how many corpses he would have to walk over to get to the docks, and his way home.

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

corinthia

Administrator
Staff member
Administrator
Immortalis
IC: Reezka
Noveria – Port Hanshan

Fuck, Reezka thinks as she watches the guards take point around the room, boxing them in and making a quick egress nothing short of difficult (but not impossible—Reezka grips her left hand into a fist, around her omni-tool’s generator. There’s one weapon the port authorities didn’t take…). One guard breaks away from the rest, stepping into the center of the lounge. Then he takes off his helmet to speak.

Reezka can’t help but throw up her hands to cover her eyes. Humans are usually pretty hideous anyway, but this guy…! Disgusting purple hair, a face like a mummified shrunken head, eyes that nearly bug out of his head…

“Everyone!” he announces. “Port Hanshan is under lockdown. We have reports that someone has smuggled in at least one geth unit, and we need to keep you all safe and secure. Any questions can be directed to me for the time being. But for now, no one leaves this lounge. That is something that isn’t going to be questioned.”

Geth! Reezka’s gut does a delicate little flip. Typically, she doesn’t give a rat’s shit about the geth, given her current state of exile and all, but to encounter one personally is a completely different story. Distrust would be putting it mildly. While various bar patrons pipe up their complaints, Reezka is slowly making her way to a better position; at this point she considers getting info out of the krogan aborted until further notice. She’ll reconvene with Starlight once this whole geth situation is rectified.

Until she hears the krogan’s booming voice cutting through the chatter.

“Fuck that!” he roars, and Reezka halts in her slow crawl away. He rambles on about his guns and the krogan race, blah blah blah… pro boner.

Pro-boner!

Now, Reezka isn’t particularly knowledgeable in the nuances of human idioms, but she’s pretty sure “pro-boner” ain’t one. She bites her lip to hold in a giggle, knowing full well what boner really means. Heeheehee. Shaking with suppressed laughter, Reezka picks up her crawl again, still enshrouded in her Tactical Cloak, and makes her way towards the end of the bar, where she has a better sweeping view of the entire lounge.


 

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