<div align="center">(https://fontmeme.com/permalink/210128/2dbbbdb83f81e86eb7c97538c683a9ea.png)</div><br/><br/><div align="center">(https://i.imgur.com/3RP87Mb.jpg)</div><br/><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><br/><strong><span class="bbc_u"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: courier;">Jackiro:-</span></span></strong><br/><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: courier;">There were four of them in total, although ‘<em>what</em>’ these things were Jackiro would not know. The aliens stood roughly the same height as an average human male, sinewy flesh ranging in tones of putrid browns and creams. Perhaps a little surprisingly, (even with their lipless mouths and jagged teeth), was the fact that they were not wearing masks or protective suits of any kind. The salarian might consider them natives of the area, but there were too many signs suggesting otherwise. Things like the crashed ship, the materials they had on their person; and in one case, a holstered pistol frequently used with mercenaries.<br/><br/>One of the vorcha shoved another one, but violence seemed to be their method of communicating. Neither one was backing down, and neither one was relinquishing control.<br/><br/>Jackiro’s patience also gave him the briefest of views in the shifting chlorine haze; there were two batarians on the ground, clearly dead by the amount of gore-splattered about in the dirt, and one was missing most of it’s face.<br/></span>