Mass Effect: Pandora {Prologue}
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		<h2 id="linktree">Play-By-Post: Bondage, D/s, S&amp;M =&gt; Bondage: Exotic Small Groups =&gt; Topic started by: Malrunar on 29-08-2021, 20:54:44</h2>
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				Title: <strong>Mass Effect: Pandora {Prologue}</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Malrunar</strong> on <strong>29-08-2021, 20:54:44</strong>
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				<div align="center">(https://fontmeme.com/permalink/210821/9eec8251075791aefafd18c9faeb050f.png)</div> <br>&nbsp;<br><div align="center"><strong>___________________________________</strong></div><div align="center"><strong>___________________________________</strong></div> <br>&nbsp;<br>&nbsp;<br><div align="center">(https://i.imgur.com/cSMQo1m.jpg)</div><br><br>&nbsp;<br><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">Location: Milky Way / Sentry Omega / Hoc Systems /&nbsp; Second planet, moon settlement - <em>Daphne IV</em></span></strong></div> <br><br>&nbsp;<br><div align="center"><strong>___________________________________</strong></div><div align="center"><strong>___________________________________</strong></div> <br>&nbsp;<br>&nbsp;<br>&nbsp;<br><div align="center">(https://fontmeme.com/permalink/210824/6e1572caff690622faeb4a857d9057e1.png)</div> <br>&nbsp;<br><br><br><div align="center"><table class="bbc_table"><tbody><tr><td><div align="center"><strong><span class="bbc_u">The Corvidae</span></strong></div></td><td>&nbsp; &nbsp; </td><td><div align="center"><strong><span class="bbc_u">Docking Bay: Victor-12</span></strong></div></td><td>&nbsp; &nbsp; </td><td><div align="center"><strong><span class="bbc_u">Pandora’s Hope Research Facility</span></strong></div></td><td>&nbsp; &nbsp; </td><td><div align="center"><strong><span class="bbc_u">The Backallies &amp; Warehouse districts</span></strong></div></td></tr><tr><td><div align="center">(https://i.imgur.com/MOVjC9z.jpg)</div></td><td>&nbsp; &nbsp; </td><td><div align="center">(https://i.imgur.com/5MmbiyQ.jpg)</div></td><td>&nbsp; &nbsp; </td><td><div align="center">(https://i.imgur.com/UFKX4hz.jpg)</div></td><td>&nbsp; &nbsp; </td><td><div align="center">(https://i.imgur.com/w5k329z.jpg)</div></td></tr><tr><td><div align="center"><span style="font-family: courier;" class="bbc_font">The spectre’s ship; a turian frigate with a full crew armed to the teeth. Some look at their arrival as salvation, others might see a quick way off of this damn moon.</span></div></td><td>&nbsp; &nbsp; </td><td><div align="center"><span style="font-family: courier;" class="bbc_font">A small wedge tentatively dedicated as a 'safe zone'. It just took several motivated mercenaries who may not be so motivated when they find out their payments will no longer be coming.</span></div></td><td>&nbsp; &nbsp; </td><td><div align="center"><span style="font-family: courier;" class="bbc_font">Alliance and Citadel backed research facility. This was where the disease was rumored to have started and has had reports of some of the more bizarre and unusual sightings. Strange creatures seem to be coming out from the labs.</span></div></td><td>&nbsp; &nbsp; </td><td><div align="center"><span style="font-family: courier;" class="bbc_font">High risk, no reward. Even those with lots of guns avoid walking through these dark avenues by themselves. It's like a bad zombie movie, those things are everywhere.</span></div></td></tr></tbody></table></div> <br><br><br>&nbsp;<br>&nbsp;<br>&nbsp;<br><div align="center"><div class="spoiler_container"><div onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button" class="spoiler_header"> Header Code</div><div class="spoiler_body"><div class="codeheader">Code: <a href="javascript:void(0);" onclick="return smfSelectText(this);" class="codeoperation">[Select]</a></div><pre style="margin: 0; padding: 0;"><code class="bbc_code">[floatleft][img height=200 padding=5]https://i.imgur.com/0YydNMW.png[/img][/floatleft]<br>&nbsp;<br>[b][font=arial black]NAME:[/font][/b] Link your profile with your name here<br>[b][font=arial black]RACE:[/font][/b] Xeno-love!<br>[b][font=arial black]OCCUPATION:[/font][/b] What's your trade?<br>[b][font=arial black]DATE:[/font][/b] Story start date is December 18th, 2174 CE<br>[b][font=arial black]WEARING:[/font][/b] Feel free to describe or link a photo if you want this info. <br>[b][font=arial black]LOCATION:[/font][/b] Where are you located so that the others might find you.<br>[b][font=arial black]CONTENT:[/font][/b] General jist of the contents within this post. Please add trigger warnings here, if there are any.<br>[b][font=arial black]TAG:[/font][/b] Who are you speaking to?<br>&nbsp;<br>[center] ___________________________________________________________[/center]<br>[center] ___________________________________________________________[/center]<br>&nbsp;<br>&nbsp;<br></code></pre></div></div> <br></div>
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				Title: <strong>Re: Mass Effect: Pandora {Prologue}</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Pink Professional</strong> on <strong>29-08-2021, 21:09:11</strong>
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				<div class="floatleft">(https://i.pinimg.com/564x/06/2a/7b/062a7b89e65aade4f736c10f2702987c.jpg)</div> <br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">NAME:</span></strong> Galeaus Centuri (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=335654.msg15962427#msg15962427)<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">RACE:</span></strong> Turian<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">OCCUPATION:</span></strong> Council Spectre<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">DATE:</span></strong> December 18th, 2174 CE<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">WEARING:</span></strong> Heavy Turian Armour, Orange-and-Black, without Helmet.<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">LOCATION:</span></strong> The Corvidae; Long-Range Comms --&gt; Hanger<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">CONTENT:</span></strong> Intro-post<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">TAG:</span></strong> The Citadel Councillors --&gt; <em>The Crew</em><br>&nbsp;<br><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div> <br>"<strong>Yes, I understand Councillor Tevos but-</strong>"<br><br>"<strong>No time for butts, Galeaus.</strong>" A masculine voice breaks through, deep and forceful without ever raising above a casual conversation's timbre. "<strong>You accepted this task, now see it through.</strong>"<br><br>"<strong>As my colleague says, Spectre. You must understand the necessity for a quick conclusion. This contact...</strong>" A Female voice spoke, softly as if trying to maintain the peace.<br><br>"<strong>...Doctor Samantha Adams.</strong>"<br><br>"<strong>...Doctor Adams may have done well to contain what she can, but we cannot risk infection spreading.</strong>"<br><br>"<strong>And there won't be.</strong>" The first voice intoned. Similar to the interrupting male voice, but with a tone growing sharper by the second. He was getting agitated, and annoyed. "<strong>I've contacted the Patriarch of Pheobus. We're of one mind on how to proceed.</strong>" <br><br>"<strong>You can't mean-</strong>" The female voice began.<br><br>"<strong>Yes, I can. I'm briefing the crew in ten minutes. Anyone who doesn't consent will be put on a shuttle to the Armada blockading the moon.</strong>"<br><br>"<strong>This is risky, Spectre. Are you sure it's the right path?</strong>" A third voice joins the conversation, contrarian and soft.<br><br>"<strong>I am, Councillor Valern. This is the best chance we have to discover what's happened. Eradication might be the quickest path, but it risks removing evidence of what has happened here. You're the one who highlighted that there was no record of a pathogen that could have this effect at Pandora's Hope. The Non-Zero percent chance of this being part of the attack simply <em>must</em> be investigated.</strong>"<br><br>A pregnant pause, followed by a grumble from the first masculine voice. "<strong>You're a bleeding hearted fool. Rationalise it all you want, we both know that's the truth.</strong>"<br><br>"<strong>At least one Turian here has to have a heart, Sparatus.</strong>"<br><br>"<strong>How dare y-</strong>"<br><br>"<strong>We're done here; signing off. You know how to reach me.</strong>" And with that, the brief sound of static broke as the Extranet connection was severed. The Corvidae's long distance communication's room was rendered silent, except for a slow, deliberate clicking. The talon of the Turian tapped against the console, frustration mixed with a cocktail of a dozen other emotions. This was a deep risk, but he thought it was the right thing to do. Now he just needed to confirm that he was correct. Luckily, his crew was made up of people as foolhardy, righteous, or suicidal as he was, so he doubted he'd lose many when he made the announcement to come.<br><br>...Spirits, he still had to make this announcement.<br><br>With a swift stroke, the tapping talon moved up to an Omnitool. With a few strokes, he'd put the message out to every personnel who worked on the Corvidae. <br><br><br><br><div align="center"><em><span style="font-size: 12pt;" class="bbc_size"><span style="font-family: courier;" class="bbc_font">Meet in the Hanger in five minutes. Final Briefing to be given on our next assignment.</span></span></em></div><br><br><br>The Hanger in question was an open and vacuous space, easily able to hold the few dozen people who kept <em>The Corvidae</em> operational. Everything from Pilots, to medics, to the various combat assets were able to comfortably fit within the Turian frigate's cavernous centre. The older hands might note that several of the sub-vessels that normally sat inside this cavern were cleared out. It wasn't unusual for the Spectre to store them aboard the Citadel when they weren't needed, and there was little use for a giant All-Terrain Vehicle in the middle of a multi-story super-city. A few vehicles remained, but not many. They had been sacrificed for raw space.<br><br>The Turian himself stood at one end of the ship, obviously anxious in the way he stood. Galeaus was a tall creature, standing at around 6'6 when he was straight and at attention. The sharp, angular features of his face were almost highlighted by the lack of facial markings, and there was a certain tightness in the way his arms crossed behind his back. A tension in his shoulders that made it clear he was not at ease anymore. This version of the Corvidae's captain was fully on the clock, and fully focused on what was to come. He waited an extra minute, and to make sure all of his regular crew members were present. This was a message not to be missed. <br><br>Clearing his throat, the flaring of blue mandibles showed glints of sharp teeth underneath, and a sort of uncomfortable grimace. It was like the words in his mouth were bitter, and unpleasant, even as he conjured them forth. "<strong>I'm not here to lie to you all; This mission will be difficult.</strong>" He paused, making sure any chatter died down as he started speaking in full. "<strong>To give you the full picture, I'll go over everything old and new. There is an infection of some sorts on the surface. Frankly, we know very little about it. It is virulent, it is dangerous, and it is potentially lethal. Additionally, we know that it started to spread immediately after a terrorist attack - Several, technically speaking-&nbsp; but specifically after an attack on the Alliance-Citadel facility of Pandora's Hope. This leaves...a lot of possibilities.</strong>" He trusted his crew to be smart enough to pick up on the complexity of the situation. Perhaps it was his own ego, but he didn't hire stupid people.&nbsp; "<strong>The Council was keen to use us as a simple kill-team. Wipe and eradicate as many of the infected as possible, burn down as much of Pandora's Hope as needed, and get things running again ASAP. I think that's a stupid idea, and told them as much. Instead, we'll be rendezvousing with an asset on the surface.</strong>" With that, he paused and brought up an image on his Omnitool. Within a moment, everyone was shown a picture of the 'asset. (https://i.imgur.com/9yzewHb.jpg)'<br><br>"<strong>This is Doctor Samantha Adams. She has been able to bring together a group of mercenaries on the ground and secure a hanger. We'll be using it as an LZ and beginning our operations there. The Patriarch of Phoebus has set up a blockade around the planet to keep the infection trapped on Daphne IV and on Enlil. I agree with the decision, which means that we'll be willingly grounding ourselves once we land. Absolutely Zero Evac until the mission is done, and if we haven't found a cure, we'll be in isolation for as long as it takes to ensure the disease hasn't taken hold. Anyone who objects to landing planetside to assist with this mission will be given the chance to board a shuttle onto the Patriarch's Flagship, and evacuated back to the Citadel at the Patriarch's earliest convenience.</strong>" He let his words settle over the group for a solid dozen breaths. Just as the murmurs began, he continued. "<strong>Our mission is going to be complicated. We're walking in as close to blind as I'd ever accept, but the gist of it is this. We are to land on Enlil, secure the LZ established by Doctor Adams and her mercenaries, and begin operations to discover what happened. We need to discover three facts: Who was behind the attacks, how did this virus spread so rapidly, and can it be cured. Worst comes to worst, we'll have to evacuate any VIPs from Enlil and scorch it. Hopefully, it won't come to that.</strong>" <br><br>With a sigh, the tension eased slightly out of the Turian's features. He looked around the room, glad to see there hadn't been a mass exodus...yet. Sometimes all it took for the dam to burst was a single crack.<br><br>"<strong>Does anyone have any questions?</strong>"
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				Title: <strong>Re: Mass Effect: Pandora {Prologue}</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Malrunar</strong> on <strong>29-08-2021, 21:11:24</strong>
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				<div class="floatleft">(https://i.imgur.com/XsPFh1t.jpg)</div> <br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">NAME:</span></strong> Samantha Adams (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=335654.msg15962167#msg15962167)<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">RACE:</span></strong> Human<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">OCCUPATION:</span></strong> Doctor / Xeno-biologist<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">DATE:</span></strong> December 18th, 2174 CE<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">WEARING:</span></strong> This, but probably little ripped and wrinkled by now. (https://i.imgur.com/SZyvDUP.jpg)<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">LOCATION:</span></strong> <strong>Enlil</strong>. Docking Bay Victor-12, pavilion<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">CONTENT:</span></strong> Trouble is brewing...<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">TAG:</span></strong> OPEN<br>&nbsp;<br><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div> <br>&nbsp;Fear was an unwelcome, yet familiar emotion. It was like an inebriated figure in a skeezy dive bar who was a little too clingy, a little too close, a little too <em>comfortable</em> as it hovered over her and refused to drift off somewhere else. No matter how well she might school her face and keep it from contorting her features, Samantha’s insides were twisting as her heart rate spiked. A chill trickled down her spine, and if she wasn’t careful, she was pretty sure the internal screaming would start all over again.<br>&nbsp;<br><em>Then how would you hear yourself think?</em><br>&nbsp;<br>Not that she had any more ‘brilliant’ ideas floating around inside her noggin. Not that she really knew what she was doing in the first place. With everything that happened so far, she couldn’t afford the luxury of dwelling on past decisions. She could only make choices that would push them into the next moment and hope that the next moment didn’t include getting gnawed on by some lumbering monstrosity, or ending up with a bullet in the head because of flaring tempers.<br>&nbsp;<br>The second option was the immediate threat, and the whole reason her stomach had turned into an acid bath. But when Samantha dared to glance at her omni-tool and see the numbers again, the human heard herself swear softly, passionately, and immediately closed her eyes so she wouldn’t have to look at it again. <br>&nbsp;<br>She was broke. Dried up. Impecunious. The funds she requested from the Council hadn’t arrived as she desperately hoped, and when your last desperate attempt at survival and strategy involved hiring mercenaries, this outcome opened up more problems than Samantha knew how to deal with. Over the last four days she had paid for their services out of her own pocket -services that certainly didn’t come with a discount due to desperation. As a short-term goal, it has been efficient and productive. Now…<br>&nbsp;<br>“Plan… what plan are we on now?”<br>&nbsp;<br>Ashton sat across from Samantha, sipping on some dark liquid that was labeled as ‘coffee’ but didn’t exactly resemble the real thing. The N7 soldier had a pleasantly bland expression that didn’t seem to take this situation seriously at all. She even shrugged her shoulders, sipping loudly on the liquid that wasn’t even warm. Certain luxuries were lost when a city-wide emergency was called. Hell, Samantha hadn’t slept in over four days -and the dark circles under her eyes mixed with the dry-mouth that came from the frequent use of stims was proof of that.<br>&nbsp;<br>“Plan…” Ashton dragged the word out, mulling it over in her head but then shrugged again. “Are we on ‘J’ now?”<br>&nbsp;<br>Samantha’s head thunked against the desk as she sighed again, weaving her fingers into her short hair as if some enlightening idea might be hiding in there.<br>&nbsp;<br>“I could walk out there and make an impressive speech about sticking together; mention our blooming camaraderie and teamwork and the morality of ‘doing the right thing’, if you’d like.” Samantha didn’t have to look up to know that Ashton was smirking, amused at it all.<br>&nbsp;<br>“Whenever you open your mouth, Ash, people shoot at us.”<br>&nbsp;<br>“Never claimed I was a smooth-talker, Doc. I’m much better at heckling.”<br>&nbsp;<br>“You walking out there with your shotgun and calling everyone a pussy isn’t going to win us any favors. I <em>don’t</em> want to be lynched.”<br>&nbsp;<br>“We’ll probably be dead by tomorrow, anyway. If the council didn’t send you the funds like you asked, it likely means they’re going to toss the place with an air ordinance.” Another sip of ‘coffee’, and another shrug from the soldier. “If we’re lucky, we’ll be right at the site of where the nuke hits. Won’t even have time to notice the flash.”<br>&nbsp;<br>“They won’t nuke the place, there would be absolutely no way to give that a clean cover-up. Not after all the publicity and political bullshit that went into building this place. The council made certain ‘Pandora’s Hope’ was blasted in every corner of Citadel space in order to receive their pats on the back and congratulations for working so well with the Alliance.”<br>&nbsp;<br>“You’re right. I was just trying to make you feel better. A nuke would be quicker and cleaner than what we’ll probably get.”<br>&nbsp;<br>“You’re a horrible person.”<br>&nbsp;<br>“Just don’t say anything to the cash-cows. I’m sure these guys are too busy trying <em>not</em> to die to worry about getting paid. I mean what are they going to be spending credits on now, anyway? It’s not exactly as if stores are open. Or like they can get off this damn moon.”<br>&nbsp;<br>Samantha finally pulled her hands from her hair, then stood up from the desk she had been sitting at. What had once been a suite of offices used by air traffic controllers had been refurbished into temporary ‘rooms’. She and Ashton had claimed one as their own, although neither one seemed to sleep, each more addicted to their jobs and growing paranoia than relaxation. Ash would take turns on patrol while Samantha was busy making her patient rounds, treating the injured they had collected, and ensured that her hired mercenaries were in top condition. Every so often a burst of gunfire would ring out in the distance, echoed by radio chatter as each team reported their sightings and the occasional contact. Things were starting to get worse.<br>&nbsp;<br>At least the rooms came with a view. Each one had a glass wall that overlooked the docking bay. Tranquil, without all the ships and traffic clogging up the view. Or until you take a closer look. Somewhere to the East, a fire was burning, black smoke coiling into the sky. And from this high up you have a birds-eye view of the bodies peppering the streets. Strategically, the open-air allowed them to have a flank free from assault, which would allow them to concentrate on the other areas more effectively. But it also meant no back door for escape. <em>And so far no one has found any parachutes, just in case..</em><br>&nbsp;<br>“Where you going?”<br>&nbsp;<br>Samantha left with a pop and groan -another effect of using too many stims to stay awake. Muscles contracted, cramping and protesting as if they had been hit with a wrecking ball. At least the headache was under control. “To go stand next to a krogan for a little while.”<br>&nbsp;<br>“Good idea. No one wants to shoot at a krogan without a damn good reason.”<br>&nbsp;<br><hr> <br>The inner hallway that ran the length of Victor-12 was another strategic boon; should there be a breach through their hastily fastened barriers, the monstrosities would be bottlenecked below while the continued advantage of catwalks stretched above. It was through the hall that Samantha walked until exiting out of a heavy steel door, immediately greeted by an open hangar, landing platform, and service stations that shaped their little base of operations. Armed figures patrolled the walls and were positioned up high, but the numbers weren’t greater than a couple of dozen, and most looked as haggard and exhausted as Samantha did. Her supplies of stims were running low. Just another problem to add to the growing list.<br>&nbsp;<br>With an inward nudge forward and an outwardly frustrated sigh, the woman made a quick and determined path across the courtyard hoping to find a certain krogan for council. Or to hear a magical beep from her omni-tool telling her that she had enough things to worry about, and funds would no longer be one of them. She managed to escape Pandora’s Hope in one piece… it would be embarrassing if she went down because someone accused her of not paying her tab.<br>&nbsp;<br>Still, it was a challenge to not glance at the small cluster of mercenaries standing as usual by the loading bay. Shirking duties, mean-mugging anyone who walked by close enough to warrant their attention. When trouble started, she didn't doubt for a single moment that it would begin with this particular group. Sam decided to give them a wide birthe. 
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				Title: <strong>Re: Mass Effect: Pandora {Prologue}</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>thebobmaster</strong> on <strong>29-08-2021, 22:12:28</strong>
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				<br><div class="floatleft">(https://i.redd.it/1q26kfsme4ry.png)</div> <br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">NAME:</span></strong> Zelgraviana "Zel" Belstris (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=335654.msg15963094#msg15963094)<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">RACE:</span></strong> Salarian<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">OCCUPATION:</span></strong> Chemist<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">DATE:</span></strong> December 18th, 2174 CE<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">WEARING:</span></strong> A rather dingy, dark blue version of this (https://i2.wp.com/i286.photobucket.com/albums/ll98/dacaz/4th%20Quarter%202012/DSCN9339.jpg)<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">LOCATION:</span></strong> <strong>Enlil</strong>. Docking Bay Victor-12, "lab"<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">CONTENT:</span></strong> Mild frustration<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">TAG:</span></strong> OPEN<br>&nbsp;<br><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div> <br><em>State of the art facilities. Serving the greater good. Just about any chemical you could want to get your hands on, and some combinations you really, really shouldn't want to make, but plenty of space to make them if you want to see why you shouldn't. That is what I was promised. So why am I here, working in a makeshift lab, trying desperately not to blow anything up? Oh, right. Something that actually wasn't my fault this time.</em><br><br>Not that Zelgraviana, or Zel to pretty much everyone who didn't want to run out of breath saying her name, was all that informed about what had actually gone wrong. Bio-science something or other, she'd heard. Wasn't in her department, wasn't much of her concern. As long as she wasn't coughing and falling over...well, it was a shame for those who were, but she couldn't do much about it. Not her department. Unless they developed a cure, and needed it synthesized. That was her department, and that was the reason she had no interest in even trying to break away from the small group that had made it out of the lab. Mercenaries were fine and all, until they needed to get paid, or got paid more by someone else. <br><br>In the meantime, trying not to think too hard about what would happen if that money ran out, or the mercenaries got bored and got paid more elsewhere, Zel was working in...well, it may have been a cafe at some point, but right now, it was a lab. At least, that's what Zel called it. Ovens could work as hoods, if you had the know-how to set up venting, and she did, and freezers and refrigerators worked just as well to store chemicals as food. Problem was, she didn't have a lot to work with. You don't get to make multiple trips when evacuating a hell-hole. She was lucky to have much of anything to store beyond what she had in her bags at all times, and that was for emergencies. If she needed to go out to get more, she was going to need that emergency stash. <br><br>Part of Zel was tempted to go out and get a sample. It didn't have to be a live one, just find a victim, take a sample, bring it to the lab. Surely, she could also pick up a microscope somewhere and..."And do what?" she questioned herself, her voice raspy and surprisingly deep for a female salarian. "Study it and discover that it is, in fact, not normal? Not a biologist, I won't know what I'm looking at. I need something to actually work on, not just sitting around waiting for something to work on. Can someone find a cure for me to synthesize? Please?" <em>And now I'm talking to myself. Fun. Almost wish I was back on...Telir, I think it was? Night club, but with less Blue Suns. That was nice.</em> <br><br>Still, the salarian simply sighed, closing her eyes briefly, and did her fifth inventory check of the hour. <em>I can't leave, though. I may not be able to do anything yet, but I'm sure they'll need a chemist at some point, and I'm one of the best they have.</em> <br><br>Even as quiet as it seemed, however, Zel felt a little on edge. It was those damn mercenaries. It wasn't that she didn't trust them to do their job when they were getting paid. It was the fact that they needed to be there at all. They were a reminder that there was an actual threat out there, and threats that needed guns to defend against. Science was fantastic, and offered up quite a bit of defense, but at the same time...<br><br><em>Liar. You're not on edge because of the threat. The threat is what's keeping you here. You wanted excitement, you got it, and it's troubling you that you are enjoying this.</em> "Shut up, me. I don't give you space in my brain to tell me the truth."
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				Title: <strong>Re: Mass Effect: Pandora {Prologue}</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Cold Heritage</strong> on <strong>29-08-2021, 23:27:57</strong>
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				<div class="floatleft">(https://i.imgur.com/ztzn712.jpg)</div> <br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">NAME:</span></strong> Mischa Harms (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=335654.msg15965217#msg15965217)<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">RACE:</span></strong> Human<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">OCCUPATION:</span></strong> Soldier<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">DATE:</span></strong> December 18th, 2174 CE<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">WEARING:</span></strong> Heavy armour, helmet in hand<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">LOCATION:</span></strong> The Corvidae; Hangar<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">CONTENT:</span></strong> Casual Specism<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">TAG:</span></strong> Gale<br>&nbsp;<br><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div> <br>&nbsp;<br>When Galeaus's message came to meet in the hangar, Mischa was in his quarters lifting. He grimaced. Not enough time for a shower. He stowed the weights and suited up, assuming that deployment would follow shortly after the briefing. The weight of the armour was a welcome thing for Mischa. It strangely helped to make him feel more himself when he had it on. Without it he felt like there was something off in some vague way in the back of his mind and he was not totally comfortable without it. Putting it on did make him late, but he arrived within the minute of grace time that Galeaus allowed for everyone to gather in the hangar. His heavy footfalls sounded a steady, unhurried rhythm as he carried all 6'10" of his cybernetically enchanced ass into the hangar. The human hung back, behind the more punctual members of the crew, and listened in silence to the briefing. He stayed quiet even where others murmured. <br><br>Mischa figured that this virus thing had to be something damned sophisticated if it would hit everyone. While he was no expert on the science of it all, he mostly understood that viruses that could hit the dextros it couldn't hit the levos and vice versa. Whether that was true was a matter for some egghead somewhere. Which made Mischa wonder why the Council had chosen to send Galeaus out, especially if they were not being used as a kill team - a task which, in the main, that Mischa did not object to in the slightest and frequently welcomed for its simplicity and directness. Galeaus was not, after all, a soft touch nor did he have any reputation as such. Mischa had never encountered anyone so enamored or enthused with explosives as Galeaus. And if the point of the mission was not to blow the place to Kingdom Come, why turn it over to a Turian with a thulium-sheathed hard-on for big booms and a reputation for being a maverick? This whole business of going down to the surface to find out about the virus sounded like it was right up the alley for the STG. Send in the Salarians and let that fucking nerd brigade solve the problem. They would do it with cold, pragmatic logic and they would do it triple-secretly and triple black. <br><br>The blood in Mischa's veins ran cold at the idea that maybe the Council had already deployed a nerd squad but that they had failed and Galeaus was their next resort. That the situation was so FUBAR that the crew of the Corvidae was the best possible choice. <br><br>Honestly, Mischa thought about getting onto a shuttle and putting an end to this little adventure. Not because he was afraid of the mission being difficult - that came with being an asset under the command of a Spectre. Spectres did not get deployed on cake walks and milk runs. It was not that he was afraid of catching this mystery virus and dying of unknown symptoms. It was the possibility of never getting to kill another Batarian ever again that gave rise to that impulse. He contemplated lighting up a smoke but decided against it. He also considered asking whether there were any Batarians on the surface, but decided against that impulse as well. There was not room for Mischa to be confident enough that Galeaus would not smell it. Anywhere Mischa could stand that he would be was too close to something that would be unwise to smoke near. <br><br>He began to hope that it would come to torching Enlil. Maybe he needed to stop carrying the Firestorm. When you carried a flamethrower an awful lot of problems started to look like flammables just waiting for a judicious and liberal application of fire.<br><br><strong>"Are we going to be really off the leash for this?"</strong> Mischa asked Galeaus when it came time for questions. Despite that Spectres allegedly could employ any means necessary, be completely above the law, and have complete discretion about completing their objectives the Council had little compunction with deciding that something was gross misconduct after the fact. Having the Patriarch in orbit - probably monitoring this whole clusterfuck - probably meant they did indeed have to worry about everything they did being scrutinized by people who had never put a boot on the ground when - if - they got back to the Citadel to debrief.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Mass Effect: Pandora {Prologue}</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Rummy Tum Tum</strong> on <strong>30-08-2021, 09:19:59</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(https://cdn.weasyl.com/static/media/1b/a7/33/1ba733b406a74f55b4a190775935aa1f316f55e3577991f401613a009bbbce81.jpg)</div> <br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">NAME:</span></strong> Luus Remeril (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=335654.msg15962213#msg15962213)<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">RACE:</span></strong> Turian<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">OCCUPATION:</span></strong> Merc<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">DATE:</span></strong> December 18th, 2174 CE<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">WEARING:</span></strong> Heavy Turian armor.<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">LOCATION:</span></strong> Enlil. Docking Bay Victor-12, pavilion<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">CONTENT:</span></strong> <br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">TAG:</span></strong> Ash<br>&nbsp;<br><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div> <br>Not much longer after Sam's passing by, Luus crossed the angry mercenaries' path on the way to find her. To him, it was more than a rumor that she was hemorrhaging funds and that this place was lost. It was fact. He knew, better than most, that the Council would happily count this moon a loss if it meant saving their image. He knew that this was a foolish waste of time--a suicide mission with no reward at the end of the tunnel--and so his mind was made up.<br><br>Unfortunately, he would cross Ash's path before finding the good doctor, and so with a sigh, he addressed the N7. "Ash, was it?" Of course, he knew her name. He made it his business to know the people he worked with. Any merc who didn't was begging to for a double cross. "Listen, I don't have much time. Tell your boss--the...fidgety human--that I'm leaving. She can keep the rest of her creds. They'd be no use when the Council blows this place to 'Hell.'" His words were matter-of-fact, even casual. Clearly, he didn't mind the doom he foresaw. <br><br>And why should he? He knew the people who were really in charge, and he knew one of them far too well. Well enough to know that this moon would be a flaming husk long before any actual help came--whether or not he was on it when that happened. "Hm. You're tough. I'm sure you'll enjoy killing zombies--before the nukes come a-calling." Odd as it might be, this was a hint of warning in Luus's eyes; a kind gesture in hopes that the human woman would heed it and take herself and hers off-planet ASAP. But, as with most things he said, it sounded unequivocally...cavalier.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Mass Effect: Pandora {Prologue}</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Wheresmycow</strong> on <strong>31-08-2021, 00:53:41</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(https://i.imgur.com/kOfnT10.png)</div><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">NAME:</span></strong> Jorgal Drack (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=335654.msg15962217#msg15962217)<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">RACE:</span></strong> Krogan<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">OCCUPATION:</span></strong> Scout/Assassin<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">DATE:</span></strong> 18th December 2174 CE<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">WEARING:</span></strong> Krogan Combat Armour<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">LOCATION:</span></strong> Enlil.&nbsp; Docking Bay Victor 12<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">CONTENT:</span></strong> Troubling Situation<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">TAG:</span></strong> Sam<br><br><br><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><br>Drack marked off a location on his map.&nbsp; It was important to have a good map, even better if he didn’t have to make it himself.&nbsp; Seeing the marked off locations being displayed by his omni-tool, his eyes narrowed in a Krogan frown before closing it.&nbsp; Every foray meant they had to go out further and further for supply runs, which placed more danger on their teams being caught and increased the possibility of bringing back more of those damned monsters back to their defensive line in the docks bay.&nbsp; But they didn’t have much of a choice.&nbsp; No one else here was a Krogan, with a well-stocked hump to see them through a long period with minimal food and water, and the docks weren’t typically well-stocked with emergency rations and water supplies.&nbsp; Starvation or thirst was a more guaranteed death than going out and seeing what could be scrounged up.&nbsp; At least they didn’t have to worry about ammo, though he had to use his grenades very sparingly.<br><br>To think it started with him wanting an easy job.&nbsp; Being a hired guard on some kind of&nbsp; Alliance/Council/Turian effort seemed a pretty relaxing way to spend the next few years while still making credits.&nbsp; Not a lot of credits, but he wasn’t hurting for them anyways, he could afford to be earning pocket change for a while.&nbsp; And it had started out pretty well: clock in at a set time, do his patrols while looking mean and angry, clock out at a set time, then enjoy a drink and a meal before heading to bed.&nbsp; This was practically a vacation for him, a nice way to rest up before another few decades of running around the galaxy with a real job and making the big creds.&nbsp; His daughters had found it pretty amusing when he told them his plan, laughing at the idea of their old man holding down a ‘respectable’ job.&nbsp; It was pretty funny, he had laughed with them as they all knew it wouldn’t last for long.<br><br>Then some group of pyjak fuckers set off explosions, a virus got out, and now it was a deadly fight for their own survival.&nbsp; At least it was a novel, the Krogan rarely had the opportunity to experience a fresh new kind of danger after several centuries of fighting.&nbsp; It’d be something to tell the kids once he got off of the planet alive, found whoever was responsible for this, and killed them.&nbsp; Because he was going to get his revenge, there wasn’t any doubt in his mind that the person responsible for this entire fuckfest was going to get what they deserved.&nbsp; Drack wasn’t a bleeding heart, he had seen his fair share of total in his time, so all the dead civies didn’t deeply offend his moral sensibilities.&nbsp; No, what pissed him off was the release of a virus.&nbsp; That struck a nerve.&nbsp; He wasn’t sure if he was vulnerable to it or not, but that wasn’t the point.&nbsp; Biological warfare was taboo in his mind, and he was going to make sure someone learn about it real well before they died.<br><br>Any further dark thoughts were interrupted by the appearance of one of the few people he still liked on the planet.<br>“Well if it isn’t the only ray of sunshine left here,” Drack welcomed with an affectionate grin.&nbsp; There was genuine warmth in his tone as he regarded the young human medic.&nbsp; He had gotten to know her before things went to shit and had taken to her almost instantly.&nbsp; She reminded him of his daughters and granddaughters, a certain youthful, energetic charm that made him want to look after her.&nbsp; He had enjoyed their little talks with each other whenever they happened to share a break, despite the vast gap in age and culture.&nbsp; When the situation went rapidly out of control, he had been happy enough to take her creds, even if his bones had told him that things would be far worse than anyone could really imagine and not worth the money.<br><br>“What can I do for you?” he asked.&nbsp; Experience told him she was scared and worried.&nbsp; Which was pretty reasonable for a civie, but he had a hunch that there was more to it than their general situation.&nbsp; His gaze naturally drifted to the other mercenaries before going back to Sam.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Mass Effect: Pandora {Prologue}</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Rummy Tum Tum</strong> on <strong>31-08-2021, 08:54:55</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(https://pbs.twimg.com/media/EJI9C1cUcAA3cZa?format=jpg&amp;name=4096x4096)</div> <br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">NAME:</span></strong> Viella D'aix (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=335654.msg15965930#msg15965930)<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">RACE:</span></strong> Asari<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">OCCUPATION:</span></strong> Soldier<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">DATE:</span></strong> December 18th, 2174 CE<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">WEARING:</span></strong> Armor as shown.<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">LOCATION:</span></strong> The <em></em><br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">CONTENT:</span></strong> Intro.<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">TAG:</span></strong> Galeaus; Crew.<br>&nbsp;<br><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div> <br>Viella had known little going in. Less than the Spectre, of course, and she suspected less than some of the crew. She was the type to repay a debt at all costs, and she owed Tevos quite a lot after the woman had gotten her out of imprisonment for upholding Justicar justice. It was such a difficult thing, getting used to law outside of Asari space. Outside of the Order. She knew, logically, that some of the eradications she had performed were not under her jurisdiction whatsoever; that mercenary code, some appreciation, and some general fear is what kept others from turning her in for the killing of criminals. But that did not last for long, and all things considered, this was the outcome of her time inevitably running up.<br><br>She listened alongside the other members of the crew as Galeaus gave his rundown and spoke truth the danger of this mission. But she did not flinch; nor did she question for a moment her role in this. She would survive or she would not. It was just that simple. A truth she'd learned hundreds of years prior to tonight; a truth she saw in the deaths of comrades and the killing of foes. It was all a part of life, and someday her time would come.<br><br>"I have a question," she stated after being asked and after another of the crew asked his own. "How will we be dealing with the infected beyond saving, or those we suspect are beyond saving? Will we put them down or isolate at whatever cost?" There was no bias in her asking. It was clear, as ever, that she was willing to follow an order, however difficult it might be.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Mass Effect: Pandora {Prologue}</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>RobHumph</strong> on <strong>01-09-2021, 00:14:41</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(https://64.media.tumblr.com/cc9cf901ea0624deecb41c680c21c2f0/tumblr_p2el30QIkb1vv8bc4o1_500.png)</div> <br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">NAME:</span></strong> Jarv Valak (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=335654.msg15965415#msg15965415)<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">RACE:</span></strong> Batarian<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">OCCUPATION:</span></strong> Hired Security<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">DATE:</span></strong> December 18th, 2174 CE<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">WEARING:</span></strong> Battered old battle armour, still clean though<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">LOCATION:</span></strong> Enlil.&nbsp; Docking Bay Victor 12<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">CONTENT:</span></strong> Well so much for easy<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">TAG:</span></strong> Drak, Sam<br>&nbsp;<br><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div> <br>Jarv chewed absently on one of the protein bars he'd been given for rations that day. He'd of preferred more, a hell of a lot more, or at least something he could bloody cook, but it was all he'd been given and their supply situation was bad enough as it was without him going all gourmet on people. To think though, first time in years he'd properly gotten off the Citadel to a supposed haven of a colony and here he was in a locked-down hanger surviving on scavenged protein bars because some bloody idiots had unleashed a plague of the undead. He'd call it a bad b-vid plot if someone told him it at Chora's Den, only he was now living it, for now anyway.<br><br>He was still chewing away when he saw Samantha, his erstwhile employer, walk over to the krogan, Drack. He noted she avoided he lazing about Mercs in the loading bay, which he was distinctly not a part of, technically being on the clock. Which by that he meant he was near a barricade and ready to fill anything stupid enough to come at a fortified position with gunshots the second they did show their decomposing faces. Still, he didn't mind it too much compared to just laying about, that always just felt wrong, they were being paid it was a job and it sure beat simply waiting for the whole thing to end before doing something useful.<br><br>He'd also like to know more about what was going on, or at least pass the time doing something other than just chewing on a shitty protein bar, so he wandered over to Samantha and Drack, idly peeling away the wrapper on the lower part of the bar as he came up to them. "Alright boss, Drak." He gave them both a little nod.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Mass Effect: Pandora {Prologue}</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>snowdrop</strong> on <strong>01-09-2021, 13:23:56</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(https://i.imgur.com/V7Vo3Hr.png)</div> <br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">NAME:</span></strong> Nianna T'Rini (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=335654.msg15969518#msg15969518)<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">RACE:</span></strong> Asari<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">OCCUPATION:</span></strong> Yeoman / Infiltrator-assassin<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">DATE:</span></strong> December 18th, 2174 CE<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">WEARING:</span></strong> Yeoman’s uniform (https://i.imgur.com/pYGQrPu.png)<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">LOCATION:</span></strong> <em>Corvidae </em>hangar<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">CONTENT:</span></strong> Pick-me-up<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">TAG:</span></strong> Galeaus + Crew<br>&nbsp;<br><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div> <br>It all seemed so very <em>hilarious</em> to Nianna.<br><br>When she had been first explained that she was to get on the <em>Corvidae</em>, with the assignment of a Yeoman, her first reaction had been to burst out laughing. After all, Nianna had never been in the military, she had absolutely no idea what a “Yeoman” even meant, and she was no doubt utterly underqualified for the role!<br><br>But Nianna had never been one to turn down a new challenge and a new experience. And working under a Spectre was definitely an experience she just couldn’t turn down!<br><br>Life on the Corvidae actually wasn’t bad. Nianna giggled to herself every time she put on the uniform (https://i.imgur.com/pYGQrPu.png) – <em>look at you, Nianna, a proper military sailor!</em> – but the job itself she didn't find difficult at all. In fact, Nianna quickly realized that she was allowed a lot of freedom to define her job herself, and make it whatever she herself felt suited best.<br><br>So, Nianna went with what she knew best. If anyone would ask her what it was exactly that she did, Nianna would cheerfully tell them that she was in charge of <em>crew resource management.</em> In other words – keeping the crew happy and in peak condition. She’d periodically check in on her crewmates, ask if they needed anything, and help them get it if she could. Really, she was almost like a stewardess on the ship; one of the many jobs she <em>had</em> done in the past, and something she was, in fact, quite good at.<br><br>Of course, being friendly with the crew and getting to know them the best she could – especially the Spectre himself – was also very beneficial for Nianna’s <em>actual</em> assignment; one she didn’t mention to anyone. Which was to write her own, candid reports on the Spectre and the crew, and send them directly to the Council. A secret role which only made the whole thing more interesting, and more fun for Nianna.<br><br>--<br><br>But when Galeaus explained the mission to the grim-faced crew, there seemed to be very little&nbsp; “fun” and “hilarious” left in the room.<br><br>Nianna listened to the briefing from the back of the hangar, sitting legs crossed on top of a storage crate. She looked as calm and chipper as ever, her lips curved in the familiar small smile she always seemed to wear. But meanwhile her eyes were darting from person to person, and she was listening intently, taking in every word, but also registering everyone's reactions. After all, all this would need to be in her report later!<br><br>Nianna wasn’t worried for herself. Sure, the mission sounded dangerous and intense; but it wouldn't be the first time Nianna faced a dangerous situation, and she still had the foolhardy optimism of a young Asari in her early Maiden stage: even if people would be dying around her, the thought that something bad could happen to <em>her</em> never really crossed Nianna’s mind.<br><br>What <em>did</em> concern her, however, was the way the crew looked upon hearing this news. Everyone looked so grim, even Galeaus sounded almost morbid and apologetic. Nianna didn’t like it. This wasn’t the kind of attitude she thought people should have right before a highly dangerous mission.<br><br>Nianna waited until all the professional questions were asked and answered, and only once she felt the discussion had died down and the briefing was about to be over, she jumped up from her seat and spoke up, looking and sounding as cheerful as ever.<br><br>“I have a question too! What would you all like to have for drink before we leave?”<br><br>She met the Spectre’s eyes and gave him a smile, as charming as she could muster. “Surely we need to have a toast before the mission, Captain? From the sound of it, it’s not going to be a a lot of fun down there, so I’d think we need to go in good spirits. And in my professional opinion, nothing lifts your spirits better than a good hard drink – or a delicious cocktail!”
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Mass Effect: Pandora {Prologue}</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Pink Professional</strong> on <strong>02-09-2021, 23:42:31</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(https://i.pinimg.com/564x/06/2a/7b/062a7b89e65aade4f736c10f2702987c.jpg)</div> <br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">NAME:</span></strong> Galeaus Centuri (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=335654.msg15962427#msg15962427)<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">RACE:</span></strong> Turian<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">OCCUPATION:</span></strong> Council Spectre<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">DATE:</span></strong> December 18th, 2174 CE<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">WEARING:</span></strong> Heavy Turian Armour, Orange-and-Black, without Helmet.<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">LOCATION:</span></strong> The Corvidae; Long-Range Comms --&gt; Hanger<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">CONTENT:</span></strong> Intro-post<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">TAG:</span></strong> Mischa, Viella, Nianna, <em>The Crew</em><br>&nbsp;<br><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><br>The brief hubbub was not unexpected. Galeaus did not cultivate a yes-sir mentality on his ship, because he knew the toxicity that came with a yes-sir mentality from his own people's society. People were expected to do their duty, sure; but he was born smart enough and humble enough to know that he wasn't smart enough to know everything. If people offered genuine criticism to a plan, he would adjust. If he was convinced of someone's alternative solution, it was to be considered. Adaptability was a part of what made the Spectres so powerful a force in the Council's galaxy. Being able to shift and flex and bend to suit the situation was as refreshing as it got. It was like taking off a tight belt, or a pair of stiff boots. Knowing that he had that power was a treat...<br><br>...But knowing when not to abuse that power was equally important.<br><br>Mischa was the first of his major assets to speak up. Sure, every member of the crew was vital or useful, but Mischa was one of his linebackers. The big guy could make things happen, and that was useful. That didn't mean Mischa lacked...baggage, but still. Work around that, and he was useful, if nothing else. His question was about what the Turian had expected, and drew a shrug from the shorter Spectre. “<strong>As always; I get the final say. The Patriarch has allowed this mess to happen on his watch, so he's just hoping we fix it quietly enough so that he keeps his job. If he wants to complain about the ethics, I'll remind him who fucked the cat the first time.</strong>” <br><br>Viella spoke next, the Ex-Justicar proving an interesting addition to the crew in the last few months. To say that he had expected to clash with the Asari more was an understatement. He didn't think himself a villain, but he had been forced to be less than heroic in her presence. Never a pleasure, but sometimes a necessity. “<strong>I'm looking for zero casualties from the Corvidae. Anyone who goes past the airlock of this frigate will be expected to wear a filtration helmet. Anyone coming back to the ship will be expected to be scrubbed before they set boots on this vessel. Anyone who attacks you, or risks your lives is to be put down without hesitation. The Asset is considered part of the crew effective immediately once we land. Any of her useful mercs will be assimilated quickly enough, if they are useful.</strong>” He frowned a little, not pleased by the thought but knowing his mind was set. He didn't like trusting mercs, and he wasn't a fan of kill-orders on what was effectively Enlil's civilian population, but that was the cards he'd been dealt. “<strong>This order is liable to change once we know more about the virus, but for now it goes like this. Eliminate any risks, quarantine any potential infections.</strong>” He kept things vague since his brief liaisons with the Asset had been all too uninformative. Mostly it was situation reports, but he had the impression that Samantha might know more about the virus once they were planetside. She'd been at Ground Zero, and had been in Enlil for some two weeks now. If anyone had figured something out by now...<br><br>The final voice to add itself to the mix was Nianna's. A few grumbles and looks of concern echoed through the hall as Galeaus took to speaking seriously, but the Asari's naturally bubbly nature made itself useful and calmed people down. She offered drinks, and the Turian had to purse his lips a little to stop himself smirking at the absurdity of it all. “<strong>Thankfully, you'll have access to liquor on the planet. The Corvidae, once we've landed, will act as our home base. Its resources and facilities will be accessible between missions; including whatever mini bar you've stashed away. I'll drink something Dextro-based when we land, and the LZ is secured.</strong>” As charming as Nianna was, she was still his Yeoman hoisted onto him by the Asari councillor. No doubt, it was this young lady's job to be the council's eyes and ears.<br><br>“<strong>Shuttles for the Patriarch's vessels will leave in thirty minutes. We land on Enlil in an hour. If you have any personal questions for me, I'll be here.</strong>” Inhaling sharply, the Bird-like Turian seemed to expand and straighten up as he prepared for his last word on the subject. “<strong>Those of you who choose to leave, it has been a pleasure to serve with you. Those who choose to stay; no-one will remember our names in a week, and we won't get paid enough, but the galaxy will get to sleep sound at night knowing we're stopping whatever Virus, Bio-weapon, or Mutation is ravaging Enlil right now. That's worth something to me, I hope it is to you all as well.</strong>” He smirked a little, before waving a hand at the crew; a&nbsp; brief 'dismissed' gesture that every person - No matter their race, experience, or background - would understand. For his part, Galeaus walked over to a weapon's locker in the hanger, starting to gather his equipment ready for the mission.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Mass Effect: Pandora {Prologue}</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Malrunar</strong> on <strong>03-09-2021, 16:55:47</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(https://i.imgur.com/XsPFh1t.jpg)</div> <br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">NAME:</span></strong> Samantha Adams (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=335654.msg15962167#msg15962167)<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">RACE:</span></strong> Human<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">OCCUPATION:</span></strong> Doctor / Xeno-biologist<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">DATE:</span></strong> December 18th, 2174 CE<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">WEARING:</span></strong> This, but probably little ripped and wrinkled by now. (https://i.imgur.com/SZyvDUP.jpg)<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">LOCATION:</span></strong> <strong>Enlil</strong>. Docking Bay Victor-12, pavilion<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">CONTENT:</span></strong> Yeah, about that...<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">TAG:</span></strong> Drack, Jarv | OPEN<br>&nbsp;<br><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div> <br>It’s not a particular challenge when searching for a krogan in a crowd; the huge aliens had the habit of sticking out like a sore thumb, but even among other krogan, Drack was unique. For instance, there was a genuine smile on his face and affectionate joy in his voice upon seeing her, one that filled the woman with instant relief. Even before this mess started the two had become fast friends. Between Ashton and Drack, Sam felt as safe as one could be. At least as safe as anyone could be when they were locked down on the surface of a moon as unspeakable horrors began to spill out into the streets.<br>&nbsp;<br>She still resisted the urge to glance over her shoulder where the krogan’s eyes had wandered; the doctor knew who he was looking at. An obvious problem that everyone openly ignored simply because there were more important things to deal with. Up until today, that is.<br>&nbsp;<br><em>Funds fell through. At the end of the day, every merc here will be abandoning ship when they find out their contract isn’t getting extended.</em> Of course, that was a rather optimistic point of view. What was to stop anyone from simply walking out a day early? What motivation was there to keep to the terms of their pre-paid contract when all of the original rules of life and routine had been altered? Samantha tried not to shuffle her feet or ruffle a hand nervously through her wispy hair, so she poked her fingers together instead. “How well do you think the barricades will hold up, Drack?” <em>Poke poke,</em> went her fingers, scraped and bruised but relatively clean. <em>Poke poke.</em><br>&nbsp;<br>The doctor didn’t jump when Jarv spoke up, but his sudden presence did increase her anxiety. Batarians didn’t exactly warm the doctor’s heart -she wasn’t unfamiliar with the aftereffect of the slavers clearing out small settlements. But this batarian had never treated her with anything less than respect. Or, at least, professional courtesy. Polite when he needed to be, yet firm on his terms and limitations. Jarv piqued her curiosity and it was only because of time that didn't allow her to barrage him with endless questions. They hadn’t managed to shuffle past small talk and business.<br>&nbsp;<br>“Jarv… good to see you.” That wasn’t a lie, but was it fair to say it was the truth? Nervous finger poking shifted into nervous finger pulling, and she sighed through the nose in an attempt to displace her tension. But, honest to a fault, Samantha was already cracking under pressure and the truth was a bitter knot on her tongue. “Uhh… hey! So… turns out the Council is filled with assholes and liars. And… Ash and I haven’t been able to get a patch through to the alliance yet.” The human winced, then remained frowning hard at a spot somewhere off to the side. As if it were the cause of all these problems and political and technical difficulties. As if that damnable spot was about to force Sam into reciting Macbeth as she remembered all the blood that already coated her hands trying to make sense of all this. <em>Out, damned spot!</em><br>&nbsp;<br>“They didn’t give me the funds as they promised… So after today, that’s it. The well has dried up.” The nervous finger pulling stopped, but only because Sam had practically braided her fingers together at this point. “I uh… just found out.”<br>&nbsp;<br>“Found out what, exactly?”<br>&nbsp;<br>Cue horrible timing. Cue continued bad luck. Samantha cursed softly and felt her heart plunge right down into the pit of her stomach, and looking over her shoulder hadn’t filled her with a sudden burst of confidence. The mercs she had been avoiding looking at had perked up at the sight of the small meeting and shuffled over when her back was to them. Eager for infighting and conspiracy, a few of them were already puffing up their chests and talking a little more loudly than necessary. The salarian who seemed to head the group -Juko? Juril? She couldn’t remember his name- was practically salivating at the idea of pointing a finger of blame. “Perhaps you would like to share with the rest of us!” <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Mass Effect: Pandora {Prologue}</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Malrunar</strong> on <strong>04-09-2021, 02:15:40</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(https://i.imgur.com/Ey3kNQB.jpg)</div> <br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">NAME:</span></strong> Ashton Chase (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=335654.msg15965992#msg15965992)<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">RACE:</span></strong> Human<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">OCCUPATION:</span></strong> N7 - Alliance military<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">DATE:</span></strong> December 18th, 2174 CE<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">WEARING:</span></strong> Scuffed, battle scarred and faded (https://i.imgur.com/ZBZ0RtB.jpg)<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">LOCATION:</span></strong> <strong>Enlil</strong>. Docking Bay Victor-12, Pavilion<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">CONTENT:</span></strong> Anthropology. Apparently.<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">TAG:</span></strong> Luus | OPEN<br>&nbsp;<br><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div> <br>Ashton’s brow quirked high as Luus stopped her, yet nothing else on the human’s face seemed to shift or change. Not the bored airs she constantly displayed, not the sharp vibrancy of her green eyes. Not so much as a twitch of her lips to display any displeasure or dismay. She did blink over at Sam after a few seconds passed, watching as the doctor made her way over to the krogan she called ‘friend’. When jade squared up against the vibrant azure once again, the soldier only continued to remain silent.<br>&nbsp;<br>Momentarily, that is. This <em>was</em> Ashton Chase, a woman who just couldn’t seem to keep her damn mouth shut even when it was in her best interest to do so. The only warnings Luus had were the small crinkles forming around her eyes before giving bloom to a smirk that was somehow playful and wicked all at once. Scars pulled taut and restricted the movement of her smile on the left side of her mouth. Dark freckles followed the upward curl of her lips, and a husky, deadpan voice finally rolled from her throat to mock the mercenary’s ears. <br>&nbsp;<br>“Sorry. I knew turians evolved from birds but I didn’t realize you guys came from chickens.” She leaned forward slightly -even though Luus was quite a bit taller she didn’t seem to notice. Even next to a krogan, Ashton knew how to stand out and take charge. “N7 translators have a bit of a glitch where they don’t pick up cowardice since we don’t have a drop of it in our blood. I just heard <em>clucking</em>.”<br>&nbsp;<br>She was a grownup, so she resisted the urge to flap her arms like wings, or cluck into his face. No one could claim she didn’t harbor any professionalism. “Are you here to ask me to escort you to a closet to hide in? To cross the street without getting gnawed on by the creepers? No shuttle can get off the planet, and the entire city is on lockdown. It’ll be amusing to see whatever shuttle you find get blasted out of the sky, if that was your plan.”
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Mass Effect: Pandora {Prologue}</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Rummy Tum Tum</strong> on <strong>04-09-2021, 02:38:27</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(https://cdn.weasyl.com/static/media/1b/a7/33/1ba733b406a74f55b4a190775935aa1f316f55e3577991f401613a009bbbce81.jpg)</div> <br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">NAME:</span></strong> Luus Remeril (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=335654.msg15962213#msg15962213)<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">RACE:</span></strong> Turian<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">OCCUPATION:</span></strong> Merc<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">DATE:</span></strong> December 18th, 2174 CE<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">WEARING:</span></strong> Heavy Turian armor.<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">LOCATION:</span></strong> Enlil. Docking Bay Victor-12, pavilion<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">CONTENT:</span></strong> More Anthropology<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">TAG:</span></strong> Ash<br>&nbsp;<br><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div> <br>"Hm." For a moment this was all that followed, brow ridges raised as his expression morphed from irritated to what may have looked like genuine surprise. "Interesting subject change. Let's talk about it." His mandibles twitched upwards in the slightest of smile, though whether or not the human would comprehend it, he could not say. "I know that humans evolved from shit flinging mouth breathers. What I didn't know was that the shit flowed from your mouths. Fascinating." Mandibles raised higher, a sparkle entering his eye as he pretended to appraise the woman before him, as if trying to discern how it all worked.<br><br>"All I need is a comm device and the whisper of a dream for a start. Better than standing around waiting for purification with a...heh...<em>vaunted N7</em>." A snicker left him unabated then. But that died down in time, leaving a more serious look in its place. "Spirits...you don't think the Council cares enough about this place to <em>not </em>nuke it from orbit, do you?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Mass Effect: Pandora {Prologue}</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Cold Heritage</strong> on <strong>04-09-2021, 05:38:16</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(https://i.imgur.com/ztzn712.jpg)</div> <br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">NAME:</span></strong> Mischa Harms (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=335654.msg15965217#msg15965217)<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">RACE:</span></strong> Human<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">OCCUPATION:</span></strong> Soldier<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">DATE:</span></strong> December 18th, 2174 CE<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">WEARING:</span></strong> Heavy armour, helmet in hand<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">LOCATION:</span></strong> The Corvidae; Hangar<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">CONTENT:</span></strong> Smoking<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">TAG:</span></strong> N/A<br>&nbsp;<br><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><br>Mischa nodded when Gale laid things out. It seemed like standard operating procedure. The wide latitude to respond to threats pleased him to no end and it would come to no surprise to any of the crew to know of his inner pleasure at knowing that potential risks were to be put down. He noted that what constituted a risk was not precisely defined, although Mischa knew well enough that Gale was not one to countenance anyone playing fast and loose and offering up dumb excuses. But say anything about Mischa, say that he never hurt a kid. Mischa was not about to gun down a kid, even a Batarian one. There were lines that Mischa was not about to cross, acts of villainy that even he was not willing to perpetrate.<br><br>Despite knowing that Nianna was not someone to be discounted Mischa still had trouble not doing it. The act - that Mischa did not know or suspect was an act - had him completely suckered and it was really hard not to just tune her out. Especially when she started talking about drinking. While Mischa felt he would enjoy the insensibility that came with alcohol he would not permit himself the solace of the bottle. Not a drop had past his lips since . . .<br><br>He shook his head and shoulders involuntarily, feeling a chill. He tried, and failed, to ward off terrible memories and he wandered off to stand behind one of the vehicles. Mischa drew out a cigarette and smoked it quickly, burning through it in record times. He pulled out another and went through it in short order as well. The third he took a little more time with. He tried to savour the smoke a little more. In the main he succeeded. But there was never really any silencing the bad memories. Mischa would be fine when they hit the ground. In fact, he would better than fine. It would be like he was another person entirely.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Mass Effect: Pandora {Prologue}</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Malrunar</strong> on <strong>04-09-2021, 23:04:28</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(https://i.imgur.com/Ey3kNQB.jpg)</div> <br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">NAME:</span></strong> Ashton Chase (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=335654.msg15965992#msg15965992)<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">RACE:</span></strong> Human<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">OCCUPATION:</span></strong> N7 - Alliance military<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">DATE:</span></strong> December 18th, 2174 CE<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">WEARING:</span></strong> Scuffed, battle scarred and faded (https://i.imgur.com/ZBZ0RtB.jpg)<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">LOCATION:</span></strong> <strong>Enlil</strong>. Docking Bay Victor-12, Pavilion<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">CONTENT:</span></strong> Rhetoric<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">TAG:</span></strong> Luus | OPEN<br>&nbsp;<br><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div> <br>It was a well-maneuvered riposte, but not a perfect deflection if only because the sassy turian made Ashton itch to strike again. If previous experience told her anything it was that the two of them could go at this all day. The double entendre of that statement as well as Luus’ willingness to banter encouraged the smirk to climb higher up one corner of the human’s mouth, making the mischief in her eyes glint. “Vaunted… did you learn a new word, Luus?”<br>&nbsp;<br>With an eventual shrug to show her dismissal of the question, and a casual flick of her hand, Ashton looked as worried about a nuclear strike as a Krogan might fear the bite of a salarian. “It certainly would be quick and easy if they did -but impossible to cover up. Even if they tried to blame it on some Batarians, that would only create messy fallout. The council doesn’t like anything that’ll dirty the image of their white-gloved hands.” She patted down her hips, her flank then seemed to relax when she located a pack of cigarettes. Luck would have it that supplies on some particular vices weren’t limited. Cigarettes were easy enough to come by, it was just convenience food and uncontaminated water that would be the struggle.<br>&nbsp;<br>Assuming they lived long enough to starve. If everyone built a fortification that could be held and maintained, then supply runs would be easy to manage. The doctor’s worries about everyone jumping ship at the first opportunity was a valid one -self-preservation didn’t always come with logic attached. Luus was smart, and in many ways his argument was valid. But to her, it just sounded like an easy out.<br>&nbsp;<br>Ashton lit up her cigarette, took a deep inhale of smoke, and breathed out the vapors through her nose with another dismissive shrug of her shoulder. “Council isn’t going to nuke the place, but they might try bombing it to high hell if they think it can’t be salvaged. Erecting safe and secured walls and providing protected streets to travel on would be one hell of a way to convince those arrogant pricks in their fancy tower that things aren’t completely out of control. They’ll want answers -or convenient lies. We fondle their balls and call them sweet nothings; if we keep them happy... we might see some good people walk out of this with their limbs intact while only suffering with a little more PTSD than when they arrived. Therapy is cheaper than a funeral.”
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Mass Effect: Pandora {Prologue}</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Wheresmycow</strong> on <strong>05-09-2021, 17:56:00</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(https://i.imgur.com/kOfnT10.png)</div><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">NAME:</span></strong> Jorgal Drack (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=335654.msg15962217#msg15962217)<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">RACE:</span></strong> Krogan<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">OCCUPATION:</span></strong> Scout/Assassin<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">DATE:</span></strong> 18th December 2174 CE<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">WEARING:</span></strong> Krogan Combat Armour<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">LOCATION:</span></strong> Enlil.&nbsp; Docking Bay Victor 12<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">CONTENT:</span></strong> Troubling Situation<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">TAG:</span></strong> Jarv, Sam<br><br><br><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><br>“The barricades?&nbsp; Hmm, the barricades,” Drack mused out loud.&nbsp; “Well, we haven't gotten too much attention from those monsters, for now, so they're holding, for now.&nbsp; We get clusters of roamers who want to see what all the noise is about and take a peak, and we've learned that if avoid drawing their attention, sometimes they go away.&nbsp; Other times they get too close and we have to take them down.”<br>The trick was determining how close was too close.&nbsp; It varied on size of the groups.&nbsp; Fire too soon and there was a risk of alerting even more of the monsters farther out.&nbsp; Fire too late and there was a risk of being overrun.&nbsp; So far, they had the benefit of overwhelming firepower, but the Krogan wasn't certain how long that benefit would last.&nbsp; The enemy seemed pretty mindless, but there were still those bastards who set everything off in the first place and ill-timed sabotage could get them all killed.&nbsp; But seeing how stressed out Sam was, he didn't want to raise that possibility in front of her.<br>“I'd say good, but it can always be better.&nbsp; Just a matter of finding more materials and weapons.”<br><br>Seeing the Batarian approach, Drack gave him a nod of acknowledgement, “Jarv.”<br>He didn't often work with Batarians, and he didn't like the Hegemony, but give the man his due, Jarv knew his shit and did it pretty well.&nbsp; In a situation like theirs, that's all the Krogan really needed.<br>“So even you can't do anything to make those protein bars taste good huh?” he looked at the ration in the Batarians hand. &nbsp;“That's a shame.&nbsp; I'm reaching a point where I might need to skip every other meal.”<br>He wouldn't really, drawing from his hump unnecessarily was stupid.&nbsp; But the bars were unpalatable and he was growing desperate something different.&nbsp; And damn did he miss ryncol.<br><br>Drack's attention was drawn back to Sam and when he heard what she had to say, he could only sigh and nod.<br>“Well shit kid, I could have told you that.&nbsp; They preach galactic harmony and cooperation, but they only have their interests at heart.”<br>Now he could really use some ryncol.&nbsp; The creds didn't matter too much to him, he took the money for professional reasons, but he knew others wouldn't be like him.&nbsp; Some of them were already on the verge of cutting and running anyways, others were strictly here for pay.&nbsp; Once the news got out, they'd be booking it out of here in a heartbeat, which would make holding the barricades that much harder.&nbsp; And that didn't take into account how violently they'd react to the news.&nbsp; There was a good chance he'd need to kill a few of them, convince the others to at least leave peacefully instead of venting their anger on the poor girl.<br>“It's going to be rough when you tell the others the news.”<br><br>Speaking of mercs he would need to kill, he focused on the group that had slunk their way towards the little meeting he was having.&nbsp; Juko was on the other side of the spectrum compared to Jarv, and he'd been itching to kill the salarian for some time.&nbsp; He certainly planned on it assuming they survived this mess.&nbsp; And now the piece of pyjak shit was presenting himself in front of the Krogan, acting all cocky as if they were worth something. While the Salarian and his gang were focusing on Sam, Drack used the distraction and her and Jarv as cover to palm a stun grenade out of one his armoured compartments with one hand and subtly gripped his pistol with the other.<br>“Sure I don't mind sharing,” Drack growled, stepping forward, growing larger as he no longer comfortably slouched but stood up at his full height.&nbsp; “I was just talking about how I was sick of these protein bars and I've been craving something else.”<br>The krogan looked Juko up and down, “Times like this make me think of home cooking, like my grandma's recipe for Salarian liver.&nbsp; She always had to use a substitute, couldn't ever get her hands on the real thing.&nbsp; Jarv's a good cook, I bet he'd do a good job if I gave him the recipe.&nbsp; And depending on how bad of a mood I'm in, he might not need to make any substitutions.”<br><br>Was it inflammatory?&nbsp; Yes, but all pretenses of civility were lost when Juko and his gang were deliberately going out of their way to stir up trouble and foment dissent.&nbsp; He had seen this sort of thing happen before in his long career; it was better to nip this behaviour in the bud right now by standing up and slapping it down hard rather than let them constantly push.&nbsp; Otherwise, they'd eventually push Sam into a dead end, and he liked the girl too much to see that happen.&nbsp; While he was legitimately angry with them, he was still cool-headed enough to want to bait them into hasty and stupid action, give him all the reason to put them down once and for all under the guise of 'self-defence', or have them retreat with their tail between the legs.&nbsp; Either way, he was primed and ready to go, and being willing to fight and kill before the other side was ready had it's own advantage.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Mass Effect: Pandora {Prologue}</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Rummy Tum Tum</strong> on <strong>06-09-2021, 00:46:15</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(https://cdn.weasyl.com/static/media/1b/a7/33/1ba733b406a74f55b4a190775935aa1f316f55e3577991f401613a009bbbce81.jpg)</div> <br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">NAME:</span></strong> Luus Remeril (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=335654.msg15962213#msg15962213)<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">RACE:</span></strong> Turian<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">OCCUPATION:</span></strong> Merc<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">DATE:</span></strong> December 18th, 2174 CE<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">WEARING:</span></strong> Heavy Turian armor.<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">LOCATION:</span></strong> Enlil. Docking Bay Victor-12, pavilion<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">CONTENT:</span></strong> Politics and Stupidity. Doesn't that sound redundant?<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">TAG:</span></strong> Ash<br>&nbsp;<br><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div> <br>Luus was well-traveled and well-shot-at enough to know all the conflicting things a human smile could mean. Fortunately, this led to there being no surprise in his face when she threw one last set of cutting words his way, smile and all. He could have struck back, especially given how much weight fell from that last insult compared to the first. But even he knew when there wasn't time for a verbal match--even with a human bold enough to try and take a 6'9 turian down a peg. <br><br>It was still tempting, he couldn't lie, but there was only so much time he'd have left at all if he was right about his ass of a cousin. <br><br>He shrugged wide shoulders and was prepared to leave when she spoke up again, turning the subject to focus in on the Council. "They have their Spectres to crawl through the muck for them. The people will forgive 'em in time." <br><br>He was ready--so ready--to march away; to play his loose gambit. But then, his eye caught something. Or rather, someone. Some poor sap of a salarian smiling ear to ear as he spoke what looked to be gentle and calming words to his wife who shook like a leaf. Probably meaningless promises to protect her and to see them safe to live out the rest of their short lives happy and together. Playing house with all the bullshit that went along with it.<br><br>It was annoying.<br><br>And damn, was Luus an idiot...<br><br>Sighing, he turned back to Ash and held out a taloned hand, palm up, towards her packet of cigarettes. "Hand me one of those and I'll stay a little longer."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Mass Effect: Pandora {Prologue}</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>thebobmaster</strong> on <strong>06-09-2021, 03:07:28</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<br><div class="floatleft">(https://i.redd.it/1q26kfsme4ry.png)</div> <br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">NAME:</span></strong> Zelgraviana "Zel" Belstris (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=335654.msg15963094#msg15963094)<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">RACE:</span></strong> Salarian<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">OCCUPATION:</span></strong> Chemist<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">DATE:</span></strong> December 18th, 2174 CE<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">WEARING:</span></strong> A rather dingy, dark blue version of this (https://i2.wp.com/i286.photobucket.com/albums/ll98/dacaz/4th%20Quarter%202012/DSCN9339.jpg)<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">LOCATION:</span></strong> <strong>Enlil</strong>. Docking Bay Victor-12<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">CONTENT:</span></strong> Concern, killing with kindness attempts<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">TAG:</span></strong> Sam, Drack, Jarv, Open<br>&nbsp;<br><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div> <br>Glancing outside of her lab for a second, Zel grew quite concerned with what she saw. Two...three mercenaries, all talking to Doctor Samantha? And one of them didn't exactly seem friendly. All of them being unfriendly, of course, would have made Zel nervous for Doctor Samantha. Just one of them made her nervous for her...and anyone else around if things got violent between the mercenaries. The only thing worse than a mercenary group turning on its employer was part of a mercenary group turning on itself, and leaving the employer in the crossfire. <em>Let's see if I can get things calming down a bit.</em><br><br>After making sure everything in the lab was as secure as circumstances allowed, Zel calmly, but swiftly, stepped out from the lab, approaching the group while trying to give off the impression that she was unaware of the rising tension. ["Is everything all right over here, Doctor Samantha? I couldn't help but notice these fine mercenary gentlemen talking to you. There's no problems with the barricades, are there? Needing some help shoring up?" <br><br>No, it wasn't a barricade issue. Even from Zel's lab, she had a sense that something was potentially worse than that, something that her chemical knowledge had no way of salvaging. The air of nervousness was almost palpable to her at this point, and she did not trust the salarian mercenary...Jay something. He seemed more on edge than Drack or the batarian...Jay something. Of course, he was unlikely to try anything with a krogan and batarian standing right there...but Zel didn't want <em>anyone</em> starting anything. <em>Let's try to find a distraction from the problem for now. Find a problem we can easily fix, then fix the harder problem. Ignore the giant fire, put out the small flames until you have the material to deal with the big one.</em>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Mass Effect: Pandora {Prologue}</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>RobHumph</strong> on <strong>06-09-2021, 04:40:37</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(https://64.media.tumblr.com/cc9cf901ea0624deecb41c680c21c2f0/tumblr_p2el30QIkb1vv8bc4o1_500.png)</div> <br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">NAME:</span></strong> Jarv Valak (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=335654.msg15965415#msg15965415)<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">RACE:</span></strong> Batarian<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">OCCUPATION:</span></strong> Hired Security<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">DATE:</span></strong> December 18th, 2174 CE<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">WEARING:</span></strong> Battered old battle armour, still clean though<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">LOCATION:</span></strong> Enlil.&nbsp; Docking Bay Victor 12<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">CONTENT:</span></strong> Deep fried would be nice<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">TAG:</span></strong> Drack, Sam, Zel, open<br>&nbsp;<br><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><br>Jarv continued to chew on the protein bar, working at the hard and slightly past its sell-by date piece of 'food' as he listened to the pair. He shrugged theatrically at Drack's question, he knew they'd both had worse but it still was far from ideal. "You ever tried cooking these things? Best I could do is turn them from bars into soup. Honestly, if we had some pyjaks running around I'd suggest we eat those fuckers instead, and they're stringy at the best of times."<br><br>When Sam went on his top pair of eyes narrowed while the rest of him looked nearly nonplussed. In reality, he was a bit mixed about the news, not being paid was a right arse but getting off this rock wasn't exactly going to be easy, and sulking about it only led to problems in his experience. Best to stick it out and then get loud about the owed money after all the dust had settled. In the end, he shrugged, while the top pair of eyes closed for a few moments, a tell anyone familiar with batarians would know. "Figures. Though I could've told you they were two-eyed asshats for free... Uh... no offence." He added a little sheepishly and finally mouthed the last bit of the bar, giving it a disappointed swallow.<br><br>He was pulling out a cigarette when his attention was captured by a certain band of slacking mercs and their salarian leader. He actually let out a little laugh when he saw that, smiling with his long teeth as he fit the cig between his lips. "What? You lot gone over to Eclipse while I weren't looking? All hiding behind the salarian?" He chuckled to himself and lit up, getting a little smoke into the air. Cancer had been cured centuries ago, so fuck being healthy. Jarv laughed again at Dracks little song and dance with the classic eating a salarian gag, though he had not noticed the stun grenade. "Ah. You wanna fry it up, plenty of butter. Maybe the legs too, humans love that."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Mass Effect: Pandora {Prologue}</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>snowdrop</strong> on <strong>11-09-2021, 00:35:26</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(https://i.imgur.com/V7Vo3Hr.png)</div> <br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">NAME:</span></strong> Nianna T'Rini (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=335654.msg15969518#msg15969518)<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">RACE:</span></strong> Asari<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">OCCUPATION:</span></strong> Yeoman / Infiltrator-assassin<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">DATE:</span></strong> December 18th, 2174 CE<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">WEARING:</span></strong> Yeoman’s uniform (https://i.imgur.com/pYGQrPu.png)<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">LOCATION:</span></strong> <em>Corvidae </em>hangar<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">CONTENT:</span></strong> Pick-me-up<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">TAG:</span></strong> Galeaus + Crew<br>&nbsp;<br><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div> <br><br>Nianna's face was in a mock-pout. “Suit yourselves”, she said to the crew members who (quite expectedly) turned down her offer of a drink right before landing. Nianna hadn't been expecting most of them to accept the offer, of course. Her real intention - apart from maybe getting the crew to relax a bit - had been just to see the reactions. In Nianna’s experience, most people can’t help but reveal their true character in the face of liquor.<br><br>Which is why Mischa simply turning away from her in grumpy silence made Nianna raise an eyebrow. Not the reaction she had been expecting. And yet, definitely quite informative of Mischa’s character nonetheless. She would need a different approach to get to know the aloof human, it seemed.<br><br>Nianna did her rounds around the ship, checking in with various crewmates and serving drinks to who few would accept them now. Finally, she found herself looking out the window. The star-filled, boundless sky of outer space – a sight she could never get tired of.<br><br>Nianna thought of Galeaus’ final words. <em>”No-one will remember our names in a week, and we won't get paid enough, but the galaxy will get to sleep sound at night.”</em> Brutally honest, as the captain often could be! But for Nianna, those words had made her think about the mission for the first time... as in, properly think about the mission, and what they were about to embark on. Unknown virus? Mutations? <em>Zombies?</em> Was there actually a chance Nianna herself might not return? How did she feel about that?<br><br>Nianna stared into the void of space in thought. Then, a smile appeared on her face. How did she feel? She wouldn’t miss it for the world!<br><br>With that thought, Nianna headed back to the hangar to suit up. She found her locker, checked all her gear – <em>I probably ought to take the shotgun, just in case</em> – and carefully folded her uniform, before starting to put on her light Assassin armor.<br><br>Nianna was halfway suited up when she noticed Galeaus over on his own weapons locker. A quick decision, and she walked up to him with a smile.<br><br>“Zip me up, Captain?”<br><br>Before Galeaus could respond, Nianna had already lifted her arms up in the air and turned her back to him, to allow him to tighten up the straps of her armor harness. She could do that herself, of course; but it was a little bit annoying... and, obviously, the whole thing had really just been Nianna’s way to approach Galeaus.<br><br>“Quite the speech you gave, Captain”, Nianna said softly, more quietly. “Don’t worry about the crew. They’re all right, they’ll follow you anywhere. And whatever I can do to help down there… or anywhere… do let me know, okay?”<br><br>“More importantly…” There was now what seemed like genuine concern in Nianna's voice and her eyes as she turned to look at Galeaus. &nbsp;“How are <em>you</em> feeling? You know, about the mission, and what we're going to do down there. You tell the crew they have a choice to stay out if they want to, but do <em>you</em> have a choice?”<br><br>Then, back to her smiling self again. “After all, my job here is the crew’s well-being – and <em>your</em> well-being even more so!”
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Mass Effect: Pandora {Prologue}</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Malrunar</strong> on <strong>12-09-2021, 01:57:23</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(https://i.imgur.com/XsPFh1t.jpg)</div> <br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">NAME:</span></strong> Samantha Adams (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=335654.msg15962167#msg15962167)<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">RACE:</span></strong> Human<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">OCCUPATION:</span></strong> Doctor / Xeno-biologist<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">DATE:</span></strong> December 18th, 2174 CE<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">WEARING:</span></strong> This, but probably little ripped and wrinkled by now. (https://i.imgur.com/SZyvDUP.jpg)<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">LOCATION:</span></strong> <strong>Enlil</strong>. Docking Bay Victor-12, pavilion<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">CONTENT:</span></strong> Bait and switch?<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">TAG:</span></strong> Drack, Jarv | OPEN<br>&nbsp;<br><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div> <br>It could have been an interesting morning, one filled with curious conversation between a krogan and a batarian and a shared, mutual dislike for the Council. Maybe good ideas would have been exchanged. Maybe some resemblance to an actual plan would have been reproduced as a result of it all? Any hope for a peaceful solution evaporated as soon as the salarian’s cadre stepped forward to lend their ‘leader’ support. They were itching for a fight and to fling blame like grenades. Apparently, the council races reacted with irrational emotion just as well as humans. Not for the first time, Samantha was grateful to have Drack on her side. The krogan were masters in the art of intimidation. Hell, even knowing that they were friends and that Drack had no interest in smearing her into a paste across the walls, she couldn’t help taking a step back in order to give him more space. Fighting wasn’t something the doctor had any skills or training in, and while she wouldn’t hesitate to take a bullet for any one of her friends, getting in the way was only going to make this growing problem worse.<br>&nbsp;<br>Somehow she didn’t think talking about serving salarian liver and supportive appendages was going to go over well. Sam winced, even as she made a last-ditch effort to respond to Zel’s timely arrival. “Barricades are sound,” at least her voice didn’t squeak. Sam managed to keep her tone light and casual, something she only managed due to the calm presence of the chemist. She even smiled; a lie. As if nothing were the matter at all. “A few more repairs and we'll be able to start sending out people for supply runs. A good start.”<br>&nbsp;<br>Juko wasn’t having it. He crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes, ignoring the tall krogan and the batarian with the secure knowledge of his allies fanning out behind him. They didn’t have a krogan, but there was a rather smug asari who had smeared dozens of those strange creatures with her biotics, and twin turian brothers that handled assault rifles with undeniable skill. As Sam scanned the group she felt a nervous flutter in her chest when she realized their two sharpshooters were nowhere to be seen. It would have been a naive hope thinking they just turned and ran off somewhere.<br>&nbsp;<br>“Let’s go back to the part where you said ‘the well has dried up’. That is rather crucial information, don’t you think?”<br>&nbsp;<br>Sam huffed through her nose. The cat was out of the bag… no use in denying it. And she was a terrible liar anyway, so why bother? She shrugged her shoulders -a habit she must have picked up from Ash. “It’s not a concern of yours until tomorrow. Look, I paid you through the end of today. The council--”<br>&nbsp;<br>“<em>Maybe</em>,” the asari spoke up from the back, glowing blue as she powered up her biotics, “we should hold onto some collateral. I’m sure the council would be very accommodating when they hear how we rescued the good doctor here.”<br>&nbsp;<br>“They certainly have an interest in keeping her in one piece, don’t they?” One of the twins stepped forward, nodding his head towards the krogan and the batarian, and even gave Zel a warry side-eye. “I bet we could even get a raise… what do ya say?”
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Mass Effect: Pandora {Prologue}</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Malrunar</strong> on <strong>12-09-2021, 02:22:15</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(https://i.imgur.com/Ey3kNQB.jpg)</div> <br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">NAME:</span></strong> Ashton Chase (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=335654.msg15965992#msg15965992)<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">RACE:</span></strong> Human<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">OCCUPATION:</span></strong> N7 - Alliance military<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">DATE:</span></strong> December 18th, 2174 CE<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">WEARING:</span></strong> Scuffed, battle scarred and faded (https://i.imgur.com/ZBZ0RtB.jpg)<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">LOCATION:</span></strong> <strong>Enlil</strong>. Docking Bay Victor-12, Pavilion<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">CONTENT:</span></strong> A pack of smokes for a gun.<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">TAG:</span></strong> Luus | OPEN<br>&nbsp;<br><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div> <br>Ashton watched the turian in her peripheral vision, followed his gaze through an exhale of more smoke, and felt her eyebrow twitch upward in a curiously surprised arch. The soldier didn’t study the bystanders that had caught Luus’ attention but she did take a note of them. There were a few of those lost souls peppered around their base; innocents that were picked up as they made the hike through the city to these docks. Workers who had hidden away in storage closets and in one case, an actual locker. They were the normal, everyday sort who had simply gone to work one day and had their whole entire lives interrupted by pure science fiction.<br>&nbsp;<br>Zombies. That wasn’t actually what was happening, of course, the dead weren't rising out of their graves looking to feast on brains. But it was easier to handle trauma when you had something to blame, and who was she to argue? It wasn't her job to figure out the reason behind this plot twist, just to keep the doctor alive and to keep squeezing the trigger of her guns for as long as she breathed.<br>&nbsp;<br>Ashton took another slow, deep pull of her cigarette, and this time when she exhaled the woman did so with a turn of her head to keep from turning Luus’ vision into a dream sequence. The rest of her pack -mostly full- was placed in his upright palm to be greeted with her toothy, wide smile.<br>&nbsp;<br>“That's gotta buy me at least a couple days use of your trigger finger, birdman."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Mass Effect: Pandora {Prologue}</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Wheresmycow</strong> on <strong>14-09-2021, 01:40:30</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(https://i.imgur.com/kOfnT10.png)</div><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">NAME:</span></strong> Jorgal Drack (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=335654.msg15962217#msg15962217)<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">RACE:</span></strong> Krogan<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">OCCUPATION:</span></strong> Scout/Assassin<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">DATE:</span></strong> 18th December 2174 CE<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">WEARING:</span></strong> Krogan Combat Armour<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">LOCATION:</span></strong> Enlil.&nbsp; Docking Bay Victor 12<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">CONTENT:</span></strong> Starting a party<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">TAG:</span></strong> Jarv, Sam, Zel<br><br><br><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><br>Well, no one could blame Drack for not showing them any mercy.&nbsp; He had already offered them a chance to back down, but it seemed that Juko’s entourage made him overly confident.&nbsp; Numbers were against them, that was true, but the Krogan was used to unfair fights since he started working as a merc.&nbsp; The lack of snipers in the group meant they were hiding perched somewhere, which was inconvenient, though not distressing.&nbsp; He already knew all the places to hole up in the docking bay, so it was easy to figure out lines of sight and where he needed to move to get cover from them.&nbsp; With that in mind, he quickly plotted out his first few movements while the Salarian was busy being the varren fucker that he was.&nbsp; God it was going to feel good killing him.&nbsp; He only hoped that Ash would react quickly enough and that there were a few more who would take Sam’s side.&nbsp; The krogan was confident that he'd survive this mess, it was making sure Sam and Zel also survived fully intact that made the situation tricky.<br>&nbsp;<br>Conveniently, the mercs' attention was focused on her and Juko, giving him free reign to prime the stun grenade in his hand and then flick into the middle of the group, right by the powering up Asari.&nbsp; When one of the twins turned in his direction, the grenade was already headed towards them, and Drack was reaching out towards Sam, arm moving to scoop her up by the waist while he dove for cover.&nbsp; He would have to leave Zel to Jarv to take care of.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Mass Effect: Pandora {Prologue}</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>thebobmaster</strong> on <strong>14-09-2021, 03:59:37</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<br><div class="floatleft">(https://i.redd.it/1q26kfsme4ry.png)</div> <br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">NAME:</span></strong> Zelgraviana "Zel" Belstris (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=335654.msg15963094#msg15963094)<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">RACE:</span></strong> Salarian<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">OCCUPATION:</span></strong> Chemist<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">DATE:</span></strong> December 18th, 2174 CE<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">WEARING:</span></strong> A rather dingy, dark blue version of this (https://i2.wp.com/i286.photobucket.com/albums/ll98/dacaz/4th%20Quarter%202012/DSCN9339.jpg)<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">LOCATION:</span></strong> <strong>Enlil</strong>. Docking Bay Victor-12<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">CONTENT:</span></strong> What we call a "Varric Tethras" moment<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">TAG:</span></strong> Sam, Drack, Jarv, Open<br>&nbsp;<br><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div> <br><em>Well, shit</em>. That was the immediate thought that went through Zel's head once she heard the reactions to the loss of funds for the mercenary groups. Not a problem that all the chemistry magic could solve, either. Credits were not something she could make in a lab, at least not directly, and-<br><br>Her thoughts were cut off when she saw the stun grenade launch towards the asari. Which, incidentally, was not all that distant from where Zel was standing. <em>OK, plan B. Ah, who am I kidding? There wasn't even a plan A.</em> Before the stun grenade even hit the ground, Zel was dashing away from it, almost stumbling as she ran backwards without looking. Unfortunately, she had come into this planning to solve the problem with diplomacy, so she was slightly underprepared for what was clearly going to be a bit of a firefight. She had only grabbed one of her bags before leaving the lab, and that meant she was basically helpless in that regard. <br><br>Still, the chemist had a few tricks up her sleeve. Firing up her barrier, Zel activated her omni-blade, briefly flexing her hand to handle the cold. <em>Forgot my glove. Too late now.</em>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Mass Effect: Pandora {Prologue}</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>RobHumph</strong> on <strong>16-09-2021, 18:10:12</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(https://64.media.tumblr.com/cc9cf901ea0624deecb41c680c21c2f0/tumblr_p2el30QIkb1vv8bc4o1_500.png)</div> <br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">NAME:</span></strong> Jarv Valak (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=335654.msg15965415#msg15965415)<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">RACE:</span></strong> Batarian<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">OCCUPATION:</span></strong> Hired Security<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">DATE:</span></strong> December 18th, 2174 CE<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">WEARING:</span></strong> Battered old battle armour, still clean though<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">LOCATION:</span></strong> Enlil.&nbsp; Docking Bay Victor 12<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">CONTENT:</span></strong> Little aggressive negotiations<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">TAG:</span></strong> Drack, Sam, Zel, open<br>&nbsp;<br><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><br>Now, Jarv was not a subtle batarian at the best of times and he wasn't subtle at all when his mood was up and he had a mind for punching and stabbing, in short, he could usually be counted on to do something aggressive when the time called for it. Aggressive was just what Jarv did when he finally saw the stun grenade as it was tossed around him and towards the Asari, four eyes come in handy. He did not even think for a moment that he was supposed to look after the other salarian, she was a salarian, if anyone could get out of a tricky situation it would be them. Unless... say... they had an irate batarian within grenade lobbing range nearby.<br><br>All but diving back Jarv hit the ground rolling, aiming for any scrap of cover he could find, while at the same time grabbing a hold of a concussion grenade on his belt and chucked it at the gaggle of mercs, it was a manoeuvre he'd pulled over a dozen times in the triple-A arena. Concussion grenades were never fun to be on the opposite side of, they were designed for offensive use, for crippling as many enemies as possible with simple explosive force instead of shrapnel. Less deadly, but easier on cleanup. To make matters worse, this particular grenade had an impact fuse, it would go off as soon as it hit the ground near Juko's feet. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Mass Effect: Pandora {Prologue}</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Pink Professional</strong> on <strong>16-09-2021, 21:50:32</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(https://i.pinimg.com/564x/06/2a/7b/062a7b89e65aade4f736c10f2702987c.jpg)</div> <br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">NAME:</span></strong> Galeaus Centuri (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=335654.msg15962427#msg15962427)<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">RACE:</span></strong> Turian<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">OCCUPATION:</span></strong> Council Spectre<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">DATE:</span></strong> December 18th, 2174 CE<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">WEARING:</span></strong> Heavy Turian Armour, Orange-and-Black, without Helmet.<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">LOCATION:</span></strong> The Corvidae; Long-Range Comms --&gt; Hanger<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">CONTENT:</span></strong> Pick Me Ups put down, and Phonecalls picked up.<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">TAG:</span></strong> <em>The Crew</em>, Nianna, Sam.<br>&nbsp;<br><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><br>Things were progressing well enough, and there was a merciful lull in questions for the Spectre. As much as he'd made sure his door was left open, the Turian soldier was not really much of a talker. He was blunt, occasionally abrasive, and truthful to the point of being obtuse. His snarky attitude was atypical enough of Turians that it caught other races off guard, and his cutting wit was, well, sometimes a rather harsh rapier at his belt.<br><br>The few minutes of checking his various weapons was a serene sort of bliss. His weapon of choice was his Vindicator; a wickedly efficient Assault Rifle that did its best work in short bursts. In a way, it was the ideal weapon for Galeaus. Rapid fire was all well and good, but he preferred a measured approach to blindly firing from the hip. His choice in primary armament was even a sort of indictment of his approach on the mission. He wasn't willing to conform to surgical incisions, or sniper assaults; nor was he willing to brute force his way through with a Shotgun barrage. He wasn't willing to simply evacuate a few key personnel, nor was he willing to glass the entire moon.<br><br>His thoughts were briefly disturbed by the approach of gentle, padding footsteps. Soft falls intentionally loud enough to be heard made him aware of just who was approaching even before he glanced up from the half-dismantled assault rifle. She asked him to zip her up, and as he glanced up he saw her half in her armour and with her back exposed. It wasn't an unpleasant sight to be sure; a canvas of blue flesh, covering everything but offering so much more. The whispered echo of a canyon to the south, or the subtle hint of the mountains beyond the horizon... A lesser man might have instantly played the gawking fool, but Nianna would hear the sound of a few more subtle clicks and snaps as he finished reassembling the trigger mechanism, a full thirty seconds before he finally shifted from his spot. <br><br>“<strong>Bold, and here I was assuming you were here to keep a Council-funded eye on me.</strong>” He said, a lilt of amusement in his voice as talons found the strap of the lowest harness, pulling it through the loop and tugging tightly. Over tightly, even, before the clawed finger of the Bird-like Alien briefly touched the arc of the Asari's spine. A tiny spark of contact, impossible to communicate whether it was intentional, or an accident. <br><br>“<strong>I had a choice to turn down the mission: same as I've given all of you. As for why I didn't? I'd rather the job done well. Plenty would have chosen the easy option, but I don't like the easy option.</strong>” He found the next strap, and continued to strap the Assassin in, his finger missing flesh as he kept going up her back. The third and fourth one were fitted in silence. “<strong>I hope this proves exciting enough for you, T'Rini. Your file from the Council was basically empty, but my other sources indicate you are a...thrill-seeker of sorts. I can't promise glamour or glitz, sadly...</strong>” He leaned in briefly, a whisper in her ear. “<strong>...Terrible first date really, but I'm in a pretty committed relationship with my work I'm afraid.</strong>” She'd likely hear the smirk in his voice, enjoying the brief moment of catty snark. It was hardly malicious, but it was clear he was more amused than enthralled with the Temptress' first pass.<br><br>With that, he finished the last strap, and zipped the suit up with its second layer of protection. No doubt a biotic field would continue to bolster the Huntress' protection, because her attire was hardly the sort to stop a bullet. He pushed her from behind, a pair of claws shoving her shoulder to move her along. “<strong>There are plenty of others who'll need your pep talks more than me. If you want to play the Ship's psych, god speed. I've a call to make</strong>.”<br><br>Glancing around the Corvidae, he was glad to see no one who'd left the ship from the core crew. It was rewarding to know he'd not picked someone who would duck at the first sign of trouble. Instead, he punched a few strokes into the Omnitool on his hand, and conjured up the Extranet communication systems. Thankfully, Enlil hadn't gone completely dark yet, and he had one person in particular he wanted to call before they landed.<br><br><hr><hr><br>Planetside, during the madness of the shootout, and likely still draped over a Krogan's shoulder, Samantha Adams would receive a call from Galeaus. They'd only spoken briefly, as plans were drawn up by both the Council and the Spectre. He didn't believe she knew much about him beyond his role as a representative of the Council. Did she even know he was a Spectre? Did she even know the plan?<br><br>'<span style="font-family: courier;" class="bbc_font">Do--t----ms</span>' <br><br>The signal was spotty. Solar radiation, and a failure in the Megacity's infrastructure was making communication unreliable. How long before that lifeline would be lost? <br><br>'<span style="font-family: courier;" class="bbc_font">Repe-, Doct- -ams. Damn it, Ensig-</span>'<br><br>It was patchy, but improving. Finally, it crackled into life, the deep biting grumble of the Turian's voice peeling through Adams' own Omnitool.<br><br>'<span style="font-family: courier;" class="bbc_font">Doctor Adams, Galeaus here. Confirm your situation, over.</span>'<br><br>Part of him wanted to accelerate the landing, but he wasn't trying to rush the uncomfortable aboard his ship. If he didn't need to, he'd stick to the schedule. Assuming things weren't deteriorating planetside, he could wait that little bit longer.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Mass Effect: Pandora {Prologue}</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Malrunar</strong> on <strong>18-09-2021, 19:51:40</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(https://i.imgur.com/bE9Aquq.jpg)</div> <br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">NAME:</span></strong> Ness Myjin<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">RACE:</span></strong> Asari<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">OCCUPATION:</span></strong> Pilot of the <em>Corvidae.</em><br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">DATE:</span></strong> December 18th, 2174 CE<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">WEARING:</span></strong> As seen in photo<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">LOCATION:</span></strong> Cockpit - <em>The Corvidae</em><br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">CONTENT:</span></strong> A little turbulence up ahead.<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">TAG:</span></strong> Open<br>&nbsp;<br><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div> <br>It wasn’t that Ness was bored… she just had to find enough willpower to resist taking the ship into a steep nose-dive just to hear the startled reaction of the crew. Tension was high, politics were a nagging pest buzzing in their ears and peering over their shoulders. Strangers mingled with familiar faces, and to top it all off, no one had the slightest clue what they were getting themselves into. The nose-dive and barrel rolls would certainly have made her laugh, but only because it would have provided a vain sense of control over the situation.<br>&nbsp;<br>Not that Ness even thought about jumping ship. She’s been the Corvidae’s pilot since the spectre earned his rank. Leaving any one of her crew behind to something ‘familiar and safe’ was out of the question. Still… not having people breathing down the back of their necks and adding more pressure to the situation would have been nice.<br>&nbsp;<br>Grumbling to herself, Ness’ hands began to flick across the console as she and the V.I made further calculations with the new data they were collecting. The weather was clear once they breached the storm, but they were only nearing the middle of it, and every so often the ship seemed to shiver as EMP and radiation bursts tested both her navigation skills and the protective shielding of the ship.<br><br><br>Her rich voice was the envy of any jazz musician, a husky purr that came rolling out of the speakers stretching through the ship. “Storm is about to pick up in a minute. I recommend strapping in and sitting your asses down, less you’d like to do a little remodeling of the bulkhead. With your face.”
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Mass Effect: Pandora {Prologue}</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Rummy Tum Tum</strong> on <strong>19-09-2021, 14:51:47</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(https://cdn.weasyl.com/static/media/1b/a7/33/1ba733b406a74f55b4a190775935aa1f316f55e3577991f401613a009bbbce81.jpg)</div> <br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">NAME:</span></strong> Luus Remeril (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=335654.msg15962213#msg15962213)<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">RACE:</span></strong> Turian<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">OCCUPATION:</span></strong> Merc<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">DATE:</span></strong> December 18th, 2174 CE<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">WEARING:</span></strong> Heavy Turian armor.<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">LOCATION:</span></strong> Enlil. Docking Bay Victor-12, pavilion<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">CONTENT:</span></strong> Merc shit<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">TAG:</span></strong> Ash<br>&nbsp;<br><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div> <br>"Heh, I ain't that cheap, curly-fringes." Even as he spoke, he took the pack, smoothly extracted a cigarette, and put it to his maw. Then, he tucked the pack away, his hand coming back up with fingers curled into a near fist, arm bent and pointed ceilingward. Her flexed his fingers one by one before finally clenching them, and as he did, a jet of flame spouted from the high tech bracer adorning his arm, lighting his cigarette in an instant.<br><br>He took a long drag, one that came to an end in time for the rising conflict. Menacing words flitted between the ancient krogan, the wayward batarian, and the puffed up salarian. And it looked like the good doctor was caught in between. He couldn't hear it all play out, but it sure as shit didn't look good.<br><br>Sadly, it'd get worse before it got better. The salarian made it loud and clear that the doctor was keeping a secret: their pay was suspended, and maybe as soon as tomorrow, they'd be working for free on this half-fucked moon. "Huh. Doesn't make me feel too confident about us not getting blown to bits..."<br><br>He didn't favor Ash with a look. At least not immediately. He was too busy smoking his so-called payment and watching an entertaining show devolve into a shitstorm. And clocking a marksman skittering off with rifle strapped at his back, just before the mess exploded with a ear-piercing bang.<br><br>"Mercs, am I right!?" These turned out to be parting words as he marched after the marksman, eyes trained on him. On the direction he was headed. On the salarian worker and his panicked wife.<br><br>Most likely, the merc would pass by those two on his way to closet to hide in or a perch to shoot from, but there was always that chance--always--that a desperate fool would take a hostage. That left him with no choice, really.<br><br>As he walked, a surge of biotic energy flooded his system, leaking out in an aura that enveloped him whole. His eyes focused on a point, and that same energy resonated and vibrated, rapidly fueling his charge. It built and built until finally, he was set free from the grip of gravity.<br><br>He was an explosive force all his own, rocketing at a breakneck speed towards the marksman, and when they collided within the blink of an eye, it was in a crash that would knock even a krogan on his ass.<br><br>"Whew! Sorry, didn't see ya there."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Mass Effect: Pandora {Prologue}</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Malrunar</strong> on <strong>19-09-2021, 17:39:23</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(https://i.imgur.com/Ey3kNQB.jpg)</div> <br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">NAME:</span></strong> Ashton Chase (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=335654.msg15965992#msg15965992)<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">RACE:</span></strong> Human<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">OCCUPATION:</span></strong> N7 - Alliance military<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">DATE:</span></strong> December 18th, 2174 CE<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">WEARING:</span></strong> Scuffed, battle scarred and faded (https://i.imgur.com/ZBZ0RtB.jpg)<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">LOCATION:</span></strong> <strong>Enlil</strong>. Docking Bay Victor-12, Pavilion<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">CONTENT:</span></strong> This is why we can’t have nice things.<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">TAG:</span></strong> Luus | OPEN<br>&nbsp;<br><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div> <br>By the time Ashton rolled her eyes at the flaunting theatrics of one Luus Remeril, fun and chaos was breaking out across the street without so much as a polite invitation extended toward her. The N7 would have been happy enough smoking her cigarette and making side commentary on their tactics and brutality, but she wasn’t about to sit back and watch her charge take a bullet in the ass.<br>&nbsp;<br>She should have seen this coming, especially since she wasn’t surprised as she watched it unfold. Ashton settled with grumbling her annoyance as Luus charged forward and into action on her flank, forced, then, to trust in the strange friendship between the krogan and the doctor and that it would be enough to keep the civilian alive.<br>&nbsp;<br>Ashton dropped her cigarette to the ground, reached behind her back to pull her Mattock rifle up to her shoulder, and opened fire on the collective group. The least she could do was offer some suppressing fire and split up the attention of the rebellious little shits. And maybe a little flavor text.<br>&nbsp;<br>“Hey Drack! You goin’ to let these cucks try to hurt my friend there? Tell 'em they don’t want to see me mad, big guy!”
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Mass Effect: Pandora {Prologue}</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Malrunar</strong> on <strong>19-09-2021, 18:47:52</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(https://i.imgur.com/XsPFh1t.jpg)</div> <br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">NAME:</span></strong> Samantha Adams (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=335654.msg15962167#msg15962167)<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">RACE:</span></strong> Human<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">OCCUPATION:</span></strong> Doctor / Xeno-biologist<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">DATE:</span></strong> December 18th, 2174 CE<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">WEARING:</span></strong> This, but probably little ripped and wrinkled by now. (https://i.imgur.com/SZyvDUP.jpg)<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">LOCATION:</span></strong> <strong>Enlil</strong>. Docking Bay Victor-12, pavilion<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">CONTENT:</span></strong> See this? This is what we were trying to avoid...<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">TAG:</span></strong> Drack | OPEN<br>&nbsp;<br><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div> <br>Getting scooped up by a krogan’s sense of urgency felt a little like getting hit in the stomach by a cinder block. The air rushed out of Samantha’s lungs as her diaphragm spasmed tightly, but she was swinging around with enough g-forces that she didn’t have enough time to really panic. The doctor could acknowledge the insanity unfolding around her, question the irrational turn to violence on an internal level, but it looked like everyone was well past the talking stage no matter how determined she might be.<br>&nbsp;<br>So that left her with very little to do. Sam could gasp for air as she tried to refill her lungs, and she could try to orientate herself while tucked in the arm of a very old krogan lobbing a grenade. This didn’t leave much room to work out the voice that started warbling in next to the woman’s ear, made all the more difficult with ears that were ringing from the violent explosion of multiple grenades.<br>&nbsp;<br>'<span style="font-family: courier;" class="bbc_font">Repe-, Doct- -ams. Damn it, Ensig-</span>'<br>&nbsp;<br>'<span style="font-family: courier;" class="bbc_font">Doctor Adams, Galeaus here. Confirm your situation, over.</span>’<br>&nbsp;<br>The lights clicked on, and soon Sam was fumbling with one hand, trying to get her omni-tool to cooperate while her other arm was locked at her side. The Krogan-Express was far from comfortable, no matter how much she squirmed and wiggled around like a kitten that didn’t want to be held. But through sheer luck and a hit against her ego, she managed to get a connection established, displaying her disheveled appearance and apparent signs of duress. She seemed to have all of her fingers and toes, but exhaustion and exasperation shadowed her otherwise friendly face.<br>&nbsp;<br>Her voice was hoarse as she tried to relearn how to breathe. “<em>Nngh</em>... you again... situation is fucked. Is that the proper terminology? You can tell the council they’re cheap assholes and a bunch of liars.”
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Mass Effect: Pandora {Prologue}</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Malrunar</strong> on <strong>20-09-2021, 00:48:22</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div align="center">(https://fontmeme.com/permalink/210128/2dbbbdb83f81e86eb7c97538c683a9ea.png)</div> <br>&nbsp;<br><div align="center">(https://i.imgur.com/IMbuIHO.jpg)</div> <br>&nbsp;<br><div align="center"><strong>___________________________________</strong></div><div align="center"><strong>___________________________________</strong></div> <br>Juko puffed his chest out and was prepared to take over this operation, but a whole lot happened at once. First Drack’s grenade was thrown, then a blast of cold seized through Juko’s lanky frame and caused ice crystals to form on his exposed skin. But it was the concussive blast of Jarv’s grenade that knocked the salarian off of his feet, rag-dolling as all of his lights were instantly switched off. One resistance member was out of the count before his body could finally settle into unconsciousness on the floor.<br>&nbsp;<br>Some of the others didn’t fare very well, either. Although certainly better than the first. The turian twins were hit with the concussive force of two separate blasts, but distance and partial cover lessened the blow so that they were sprawling and disoriented, but not out of the fight. The twin on the left of the barricade, however, was climbing to his feet almost instantly, tucked away behind the glowing blue wall erected by a <em>very</em> livid commando who didn’t find any amusement to the situation. She wanted nice, easy money, and this just made things a whole lot more complicated.<br>&nbsp;<br>With a scream that only supported her short temper, the asari converted her biotic shield into a wave that was powerful enough to knock even a krogan off of his feet if they weren’t smart or careful. Turn about was fair play.<br>&nbsp;<br>On the other side of the landing zone, those who hadn’t yet picked sides found their encouragement in violence. Three other mercs joined the ranks of the disgruntled asari, and started positioning themselves behind stone barriers to protect her exposed flank. That left a hail of bullets sweeping back towards Ashton… and innocent civilians who only wished to find safety and sanctuary in these troubling circumstances. Screams of panic, alarm -which could very well act as dinner bells to some of the beasts lurking in the streets- began to pitch in volume over the staccato of weapon’s fire.<br>&nbsp;<br>This was why the human sniper that Luus charged with his biotics had to shout to be heard, even if his comeback was quite dreadful and perhaps a little pathetic with its outcome. “Not if you’re dead!” But the fact that the human flickered out of view and turned invisible might have added a point in his favor, anyway.<br>&nbsp;<br><div align="center"><div class="spoiler_container"><div onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button" class="spoiler_header">Drack</div><div class="spoiler_body"> Cover is available where you are, but complete coverage from the asari’s biotic-bullshit isn’t within a reasonable distance. A battle-hardened krogan would certainly survive a blast like that, and the experience that comes with it would let Drack know that the asari wouldn’t necessarily have long to ‘cool down’. (And since he has two asari daughters… he probably knows that when they lose their temper a ‘cool down’ isn’t really something you can depend on.) Still, there are cemented barriers that could provide a decent amount of protection when you’ve got unarmored cargo in your mits.</div></div>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; <div class="spoiler_container"><div onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button" class="spoiler_header">Zel</div><div class="spoiler_body"> The cryo blast hit its mark, and our poor chemist is in a poor position. With the three mercenaries joining the ranks behind the asari, she will be an easy target. While the asari’s biotic blast is something to be wary of… Zel is <em>pretty sure</em> she’s only on the outermost edge of the wave. Maybe… probably? Those barriers will help her position, but it’s up to her if she wants to fully depend on them.</div></div>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; <div class="spoiler_container"><div onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button" class="spoiler_header">Jarv</div><div class="spoiler_body"> The twins are giving you the stink-eye. You’re not as protected from the biotic wave as Zel is, but there are cemented platforms around you that are likely great cover-spots. Jarv would know these faces well -and he’d know that they tend to hold grudges. Now that violence has been exchanged, there aren’t going to be any words of forgiveness. The Asari -Iraya- is especially cold and calculating. She isn’t part of any merc-group because she is impulsive and greedy. And can’t be trusted. But she’s easily distracted, and her eyes are on the krogan and human.</div></div>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; <div class="spoiler_container"><div onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button" class="spoiler_header">Luus</div><div class="spoiler_body"> Your sniper cloaked, and it’s far too loud to listen for footsteps in the hopes of picking out which direction he intends to go. But Luus is a big guy, and humans are kind of fragile… are you certain he could even get up after being smeared across the pavement like that?</div></div></div> <br>&nbsp;<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Mass Effect: Pandora {Prologue}</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Wheresmycow</strong> on <strong>22-09-2021, 02:22:48</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(https://i.imgur.com/kOfnT10.png)</div><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">NAME:</span></strong> Jorgal Drack (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=335654.msg15962217#msg15962217)<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">RACE:</span></strong> Krogan<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">OCCUPATION:</span></strong> Scout/Assassin<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">DATE:</span></strong> 18th December 2174 CE<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">WEARING:</span></strong> Krogan Combat Armour<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">LOCATION:</span></strong> Enlil.&nbsp; Docking Bay Victor 12<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">CONTENT:</span></strong> Starting a party<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">TAG:</span></strong> Jarv, Sam, Zel<br><br><br><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><br>Well, if things took a severe turn for the worst, Drack was at least happy that Juko had died first.&nbsp; Of course, he still had to dead with a severely pissed off Asari, but this wasn't the first time that he'd had to deal with that.&nbsp; The krogan dashed from cover to cover, moving with surprising agility despite his size and age.&nbsp; While he could handle being tagged by her powers, it would still rattle him and he was fighting more than just her.&nbsp; His first priority was moving towards the cement barriers, they'd be able to withstand the asari going all out, which would also keep Sam safe, as well as provide cover from the snipers as well.&nbsp; He didn't need Ashton to tell him to keep the doctor safe from harm, that was already his number one goal in starting this fight off with a surprise attack to begin with.<br><br>“What are you so pissed about?” the krogan bellowed at the biotic while he ran. &nbsp;“Anyone would think you had a krogan for a father.&nbsp; Or were you Juko's lover?&nbsp; I didn't know the bastard kept a pet.”<br>Taunting a hot headed Asari was always a dicey proposition, but he knew how to exploit it.&nbsp; What she would gain in power, she would lose in precision and her focus would become narrow.&nbsp; That would open up a window of opportunity for him and all he needed was an opportunity to make her shitty day even worse.<br><br>"If that's potential back up, you need to tell them to hurry up," Drack grumbled at Sam.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Mass Effect: Pandora {Prologue}</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Rummy Tum Tum</strong> on <strong>22-09-2021, 02:41:16</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(https://cdn.weasyl.com/static/media/1b/a7/33/1ba733b406a74f55b4a190775935aa1f316f55e3577991f401613a009bbbce81.jpg)</div> <br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">NAME:</span></strong> Luus Remeril (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=335654.msg15962213#msg15962213)<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">RACE:</span></strong> Turian<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">OCCUPATION:</span></strong> Merc<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">DATE:</span></strong> December 18th, 2174 CE<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">WEARING:</span></strong> Heavy Turian armor.<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">LOCATION:</span></strong> Enlil. Docking Bay Victor-12, pavilion<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">CONTENT:</span></strong> Merc shit<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">TAG:</span></strong> Ash<br>&nbsp;<br><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div> <br>A brow ridge rose in mix of cocky bravado and genuine confusion. "...What?" That comeback made no sense whatsoever. All signs pointed to concussion, or maybe it was just a whole lot of fear. <br><br>Then poof, the human was gone. Hiding behind his cloak and likely trying to slink off. But something had to be broken after that Charge. Surely he couldn't get away easy, even over the rising, all too familiar ring of gunfire. "I gotta thank you for threatening me. Makes this a lot easier." With a crooked tilt of one mandible, he aimed his left arm at the space where the human just was, and with a squeeze of the extended device within his bracer, he sent forth a gout of dark red flame. <br><br>Like any good 'firebird', he spread the flames far and wide, and with an inveterate casualness. They would find him where his eyes couldn't, and it would not be pleasant, despite Luus's intention to maim and not kill. Still, it was a very good thing he'd threatened his life. Now, no pity was necessary. And neither was any dwelling on more...hectic days.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Mass Effect: Pandora {Prologue}</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>thebobmaster</strong> on <strong>22-09-2021, 08:27:50</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<br><div class="floatleft">(https://i.redd.it/1q26kfsme4ry.png)</div> <br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">NAME:</span></strong> Zelgraviana "Zel" Belstris (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=335654.msg15963094#msg15963094)<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">RACE:</span></strong> Salarian<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">OCCUPATION:</span></strong> Chemist<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">DATE:</span></strong> December 18th, 2174 CE<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">WEARING:</span></strong> A rather dingy, dark blue version of this (https://i2.wp.com/i286.photobucket.com/albums/ll98/dacaz/4th%20Quarter%202012/DSCN9339.jpg)<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">LOCATION:</span></strong> <strong>Enlil</strong>. Docking Bay Victor-12<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">CONTENT:</span></strong> Tethras intensifies<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">TAG:</span></strong> Open<br>&nbsp;<br><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div> <br><em>Shit! Shit!</em> Zel didn't panic often, but this was one of those situations where panic seemed to be an appropriate response. Flashbangs, fire, gunshots, quite a lot going on. She didn't focus on anything outgoing, of course. She wasn't concerned with any of that. Her concern was incoming. The asari. The other mercs that had guns. Her barriers weren't bad, but they were never meant or trained for an extended fight. They basically existed for the purpose of keeping her alive while she mixed up a chemical cocktail. <br><br><em>Oh, wait! I don't have any of that because I thought I was a smooth talker! Plan B. Or C, maybe.</em> Keeping her barriers up, Zel did about the only thing feasible in her current situation: she ran. Away from the fire, away from the asari, just...away. Let the ones who could actually fight fight. <em>If I keep my mouth shut, maybe they won't notice me? Maybe they'll focus on the ones actually trying to kill them? Please?</em>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Mass Effect: Pandora {Prologue}</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Pink Professional</strong> on <strong>26-09-2021, 13:29:05</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(https://i.pinimg.com/564x/06/2a/7b/062a7b89e65aade4f736c10f2702987c.jpg)</div><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">NAME:</span></strong> Galeaus Centuri (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=335654.msg15962427#msg15962427)<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">RACE:</span></strong> Turian<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">OCCUPATION:</span></strong> Council Spectre<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">DATE:</span></strong> December 18th, 2174 CE<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">WEARING:</span></strong> Heavy Turian Armour, Orange-and-Black, <br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">LOCATION:</span></strong> The Corvidae; Hanger --&gt; Docking Bay Victor 12 Entrance<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">CONTENT:</span></strong> Pick Me Ups put down, and Phonecalls picked up.<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">TAG:</span></strong> Samantha Adams, Corvidae Crew, <em><strong>Everyone</strong></em>.<br>&nbsp;<br><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><br>His chat done with Nianna, Galeaus was able to focus on the mission at large. It had been easy to put it off while acting as a leader should. He could pretend the mission was something distant when he was organising evacuations, and issuing orders. It was something segmented, and regimented – Controlled, and precise, like all good military men want things to be. He still wore his service on his sleeves and even as a Spectre, as a radical amongst his people, he craved the control and the conformity that came with missions, and objectives, and roles, and rules.<br><br>This mission would not be controlled. <br><br>His conversations with the good Doctor thus far had been limited in scope, and in design. He'd established some very basic details – Mostly about the disease, and about the situation on Enlil proper. He'd not given much details about himself, so as to remain clinical and in a position to walk away. The moment he gave more than a name? He'd be the Spectre that might come to save the day. Heroic he was not, and he didn't want to get attached to some far-off human in danger. Sob stories could melt his cold heart well enough, and he was trying to remain professional, and detached, and in Control.<br><br>From the Doctor, he'd learnt about the Virus, and that there was something worth saving of Enlil. He knew there was a threat with unknown objectives. He knew there was something worth investigating. From brief information pulled up about Miss Adams, he knew that there was something to be impressed about with the woman's background. Survivor of atrocities, expert in her field, and outspoken proponent for peace. Her record was excellent. He hoped she would be a source of stability.<br><br>And so, when Galeaus finally connected with the last surviving member of Pandora's Hope – The woman who had led the small counter offensive on the moon of Daphne IV and gave him hope that there was a salvageable situation to be found on Enlil – he had hoped for something less...overwhelming.<br><br>A dishevelled looking human was one thing, but the slow bounce of quick motion and the obvious duress on the woman's face told the Spectre everything he needed to know. There was something going wrong immediately. There was a current problem. Time was not a luxury he had.<br><br>Then there was the cursing. He hadn't expected the cursing, but he supposed he could forgive it.<br><br>“<span style="font-family: courier;" class="bbc_font">Specifics, Doctor. What is going on? Why are you struggling to breathe?</span>” He paused, close to asking if she'd contracted some different disease on the planet. There had been no information about the Viral Outbreak affecting the respiratory systems. He was under the impression it caused violent overheating and causing the body to shut down. His next question changed when the sound of a rather loud explosion echoed through the Omnitool. First the Cryo Grenade, then the Concussive grenade. Close enough together that Galeaus couldn't pick them apart over the Omnitool's lagging display. “<span style="font-family: courier;" class="bbc_font">...Was that an Explosion?</span>”<br><br>“<span style="font-family: courier;" class="bbc_font">...sorry. Got winded by a Krogan... It's been a busy morning!</span>" There was more rustling on her side of the comms, a disorienting view of cement barriers, a landing pad, and just a streak of a sprinting Salarian before she was gone. Then, Sam was back into view, as well as the hulking frame of the previously mentioned Krogan. "<span style="font-family: courier;" class="bbc_font">And yes... That was an explosion. Also gunfire. They found out that they weren't getting paid again, I suppose this is how they celebrate their feelings.</span>"<br><br>"<span style="font-family: courier;" class="bbc_font">Not getting paid? That...tracks, actually.</span>" He paused, dumbfounded as the previous comments about the Council being cheap liars made a whole lot more sense. "<span style="font-family: courier;" class="bbc_font">Is the situation under control? Is the LZ still secure?</span>" He was playing diplomat for a second, hoping that the group of unreasonable was a small dissident faction. She clearly had some guardian...Krogan? Not the most flattering mental image, but it was what it was.<br><br>There was a quick, disbelieving laugh. A huff of breath before it was gone. "<span style="font-family: courier;" class="bbc_font">I mean they're throwing grenades. But the party just started, no one has brought down the roof, and those... things haven't shown up here yet.</span>"<br><br>"<span style="font-family: courier;" class="bbc_font">...Completely out of hand; got it.</span>" He paused for a second, looking around the room he was in before coming to the obvious conclusion. "<span style="font-family: courier;" class="bbc_font">We'll be landing in about thirty seconds. Get to the LZ immediately.</span>"<br><br>"<span style="font-family: courier;" class="bbc_font">... Landing? You're... not an admin... are you?</span>"&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<br><br>"<span style="font-family: courier;" class="bbc_font">Hah.</span>" He said, a wry smirk on his face before he terminated the connection to the Doctor's Omnitool. <br><br><hr><hr><br>With the Omnitool dismissed, Gale gave himself five seconds to run a thumb against his right temple, massaging the softer part of his solid chitin as he realised what he had to do. “<strong>Combat assets, suit up. If anyone was planning to leave the ship, quarantine yourselves to your quarters immediately, and you'll be dealt with later.</strong>” His common title for anyone worth bringing on missions - be they Assassins, Ex-Justicars, Pyromaniacs, or anything else besides - was Combat assets. It was hardly creative, but he wasn't a creative soul. Spirits above, he wasn't the sort to make up a silly, cartoonish squad name. “<strong>Assume Zero-Air protocols, everyone.</strong>” While he was aware that the disease was almost certainly not airborne – If it was, there simply wouldn't be any survivors to speak to down on the Moon – he didn't want to take the risk of any other sort of infection. If it was passed through fluids, a splatter of blood from an Asari's sword might be catastrophic. Perhaps it could become airborne when it was exposed to enough heat. Perhaps it was just a contact-based thing disease, or was only passed through inhalation or consumption. Too many unknowns. Too many variables. Too little control.<br><br>Galeaus pulled his Assault Rifle up from the table, quickly snapping the last few loose parts into place and lifting up the weapon. He unhooked an Orange helmet from his locker and placed it onto his armour. With a press of a button, and a flick of the Omnitool, it locked shut and blazed into a Heads-up display, letting him see the battlefield with additional information that tracked his vitals, his ammo count, and a few other facts that were handy to have on hand.<br><br>“<strong>Landing in ten seconds. Don't shoot anyone until I give the order.</strong>”<br><br>With that, a bump as the Moon's gravity grabbed a hold of the Corvidae and shook it slightly reminded them how close they were. Galeaus took position by the Airlock, waiting for it to hiss open and let them through. While it did, he opened his Omnitool and connected to the Corvidae's computer, simultaneously transmitting his signal to every single Omnitool inside a one-hundred metre radius of the Landing Zone – At least everyone involved in the fight.<br><br>“<strong>This is Captain Galeaus Centuri, Spectre and Commander of the Corvidae. Be advised that I am taking command of this facility, and anyone who isn't either named or protecting Doctor Samantha Adams better have their hands up, and their weapons on the floor. Anyone who fails to meet these demands will be taken down. These are your only terms of surrender.</strong>”<br><br>The Airlock door hissed open, allowing the Corvidae to unleash its Combat Assets. Led by Galeaus, it was likely a striking addition to the ramshackle camp that surrounded Victor-12. Immaculate, shiny, sophisticated, and deadly. Much like its unleashed crew, it was steeped in an air of violence and mystique. <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Mass Effect: Pandora {Prologue}</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Cold Heritage</strong> on <strong>26-09-2021, 23:29:04</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(https://i.imgur.com/ztzn712.jpg)</div> <br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">NAME:</span></strong> Mischa Harms (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=335654.msg15965217#msg15965217)<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">RACE:</span></strong> Human<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">OCCUPATION:</span></strong> Soldier<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">DATE:</span></strong> December 18th, 2174 CE<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">WEARING:</span></strong> Heavy armour, helmet in hand<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">LOCATION:</span></strong> The Corvidae; Hangar --&gt; Docking Bay Victor 12 Entrance<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">CONTENT:</span></strong> Love &amp; Peace<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">TAG:</span></strong> N/A<br>&nbsp;<br><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><br>Mischa duly strapped himself in when the pilot spoke over the comm about the storm picking up. He donned his helmet and went through the protocols to seal his armour, running checks three times to ensure he had a proper seal. It was not that he was particularly scared of being infected. It certainly was not a fear of death. His head settled back and Mischa let out a long breath, closing his eyes. The man's heart beat slowed and he relaxed even as the ship was at the mercy of the storm and he was certain that it would have been worse if there were anyone else at the helm. Mischa did not like most people. He did not like himself. But Ness knew her business and she handled the ship well, and that counted for something, maybe. Not that the Asari had any reason to give a shit about what a cyborg psycho thought about her or how she did her job.<br><br>Already suited up and armed, Mischa had nothing else to do when Galeaus gave the order. One might expect that he would be irked or put out by the order to hold fire until ordered, and maybe he was. But Mischa was not there. It was a very peaceful sensation to be absent. To be somewhere else.&nbsp; When the Combat Assets deployed after the Spectre Mischa's body followed at a deliberate, measured pace. His Revenant was in hand and trigger discipline was in effect. Empty eyes took in the LZ, taking stock of the situation. The weapon was not yet raised. There was no order to fire yet, and it was a cardinal rule that one should not point a weapon at anything they were not prepared to destroy. He was primed to activate Fortification, and eyed the few targets behind cover. It would not protect them against him. <br><br>He caught sight of the Primary Asset and marked her on his HUD display. It would not do to lose track of her. If - when - combat broke out it was difficult not be guided by the beauty of his weapons and lost in his own world so very far away. Even the presence of a Batarian did not threaten the distance Mischa felt from the events of the LZ. An errant thought might have passed by to mark it as a target, but such a potential thought blurred and faded so quickly as to be particularly ephemeral and more transitory than anything else passing through the mind. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Mass Effect: Pandora {Prologue}</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>RobHumph</strong> on <strong>02-10-2021, 15:03:56</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(https://64.media.tumblr.com/cc9cf901ea0624deecb41c680c21c2f0/tumblr_p2el30QIkb1vv8bc4o1_500.png)</div> <br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">NAME:</span></strong> Jarv Valak (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=335654.msg15965415#msg15965415)<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">RACE:</span></strong> Batarian<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">OCCUPATION:</span></strong> Hired Security<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">DATE:</span></strong> December 18th, 2174 CE<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">WEARING:</span></strong> Battered old battle armour, still clean though<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">LOCATION:</span></strong> Enlil.&nbsp; Docking Bay Victor 12<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">CONTENT:</span></strong> Little aggressive negotiations<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">TAG:</span></strong> Drack, Sam, Zel, open<br>&nbsp;<br><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><br>After quickly glancing around for any cover he could lay his greedy four eyes on, Jarv practically dove for the concrete to protect him from the very angry wave of a rather irate blue idiot, never a dull moment eh. When he got there he didn't waste time getting himself comfortable and instead busied himself getting his tempest ready for some much more permanent argument resolving. He saw the turians, hard not to frankly with how they were glowering and more than likely preparing to kill him, but for now they were just glowering, which was useful. The asari was well beyond that so she was the bigger threat at this exact moment in time. Since she had the common decency to be more concerned about Drack the krogan... which fair enough there, krogan are generally a bloody bit threat in a given combat scenario... Jarv had the delightful opportunity to make her life even more irritating than it already was. <br><br>With his tempest ready, Jarv rose out of cover just long enough to pop off a stream of fire towards Iraya. Deadly intent was obvious, she clearly wasn't gonna take prisoners so neither way he. Also he didn't fancy having more people hating him for all time, better they hate him for the few minutes they have left alive. He was mindful of the turians though, and any fire from them would send him straight back into his lovely protective cover, where he wasn't getting shot at.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Mass Effect: Pandora {Prologue}</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Malrunar</strong> on <strong>03-10-2021, 20:04:04</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(https://i.imgur.com/Ey3kNQB.jpg)</div> <br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">NAME:</span></strong> Ashton Chase (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=335654.msg15965992#msg15965992)<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">RACE:</span></strong> Human<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">OCCUPATION:</span></strong> N7 - Alliance military<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">DATE:</span></strong> December 18th, 2174 CE<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">WEARING:</span></strong> Scuffed, battle scarred and faded (https://i.imgur.com/ZBZ0RtB.jpg)<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">LOCATION:</span></strong> <strong>Enlil</strong>. Docking Bay Victor-12, Pavilion<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">CONTENT:</span></strong> Pullin' out the Trojan<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">TAG:</span></strong> Luus | OPEN<br>&nbsp;<br><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><br>More cursing left the human's mouth, grumbled words that were drowned out by the staccato of gunfire and the growing screams of alarm. Civilians weren't used to being shot at, not in the same way the mercenaries and soldiers were, so when the three newcomers began to direct their fire towards Ashton she was forced to go on the defensive. Biotic shields weren't exactly her specialty, but the N7 managed to pull one up to deflect the incoming rounds with a great deal of concentration. It was like learning to walk again after recovering from a debilitating injury, controlling muscles that were weakened and unfamiliar. It was awkward, it was frustratingly exhausting, she didn't have the same finesse as the pissed-off asari but who cared about style so long as the end results were the same?<br><br>The shield didn't last long, but it was enough to stop the hail of bullets aimed in her direction, meaning the civilians who were in an unlucky position had less to scream about. Any witty retort, angry rebuttal, or acts of violence were then swiftly interrupted by the very prompt and unexpected arrival of a ship. She didn't even have the time to hope for an Alliance military crew; the frigate screamed 'turian' even before the bay doors opened, and out walked well-armed and motivated personnel with a message that did little to settle her stomach. Ashton didn't lower her weapon from her shoulder, but she was smart enough not to aim down the sights to the new arrivals and their fancy toys.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Mass Effect: Pandora {Prologue}</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Malrunar</strong> on <strong>03-10-2021, 20:36:27</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div align="center">(https://fontmeme.com/permalink/210128/2dbbbdb83f81e86eb7c97538c683a9ea.png)</div> <br>&nbsp;<br><div align="center">(https://i.imgur.com/IMbuIHO.jpg)</div> <br>&nbsp;<br><div align="center"><strong>___________________________________</strong></div><div align="center"><strong>___________________________________</strong></div><br>Bobbing and weaving through cover worked well enough; when the biotic blast lashed out like a fan towards Iraya's targets, the cement pillars took the brunt of the force and broke it up like boulders on a beach. Had Samantha been standing on her own two legs she would have been knocked over hard enough to have bruised her tailbone. But when you were clutched in the arm of a friendly krogan motivated in keeping her in one piece, it was just presented as a tingling, unpleasant pressure that quickly melted away. Sam seemed to breathe a little easier, even if she was still trying to worm her way out of Drack's bruising grip. "Thanks, big guy! But you're bruising the shit out of my ribs... set me down?"<br><br>The asari commando had been distracted, so when Jarv fired back a few of his rounds punctured through her shields and dropped them to zero. He would have been the target of her next shockwave had it not been for the conveniently inconvenient ship that seemed to drop right out of the sky and into port with uncanny grace. She did not, however, take the words of caution that rumbled across her omnitool to heart. "Fuck you!" Was her rebuttal. The mercenary was mad before, but say one thing about Iraya; say she didn't know when to call it quits. Her hot temper boiled over at the suggestion of surrender. As she put her hands up it was to throw everything her biotic abilities had into sending the powerful wave towards the Spectre and his crew standing there on the open ramp.<br><br>The others... weren't so far gone. There was no cry of unity filling the asari's ears behind her, no rapid-fire of twin assault rifles guarding her back. The others were reasonably cowed and turning on their heels to flee, and it was Iraya who was the only one foolish enough to attack a Spectre and his heavily armored friends.<br><br>Even the civilians were cowed at the sight, keeping even lower as if they were afraid that the sky itself would start to fall apart. Luus had one of the best views from his position, and the smoking remains of a dead human at his feet.<br><br><div align="center"><div class="spoiler_container"><div onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button" class="spoiler_header"> GM Note</div><div class="spoiler_body"><br>Hunting Season: Iraya is not going to be reasonable. Her mercs are going to try to make the slip and a few will be trying to blend into the crowd as if they haven't had any part of this whatsoever.</div></div></div>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Mass Effect: Pandora {Prologue}</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Rummy Tum Tum</strong> on <strong>05-10-2021, 07:10:35</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(https://pbs.twimg.com/media/EJI9C1cUcAA3cZa?format=jpg&amp;name=4096x4096)</div> <br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">NAME:</span></strong> Viella D'aix (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=335654.msg15965930#msg15965930)<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">RACE:</span></strong> Asari<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">OCCUPATION:</span></strong> Soldier<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">DATE:</span></strong> December 18th, 2174 CE<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">WEARING:</span></strong> Armor as shown.<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">LOCATION:</span></strong> Enlil. Docking Bay Victor-12, Pavilion<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">CONTENT:</span></strong> Defense.<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">TAG:</span></strong> Iraya<br>&nbsp;<br><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div> <br>Viella preferred to keep her mind clear and reflexes sharp on mission. She would smile as any crew took part in their drinking, so long as it was not overmuch, but she would not participate. Instead she would spend most of their descent with her eyes closed and mind empty. She felt the travel of her breath through her diaphragm, took solace in the scents and sensations around her, and prepared herself for the mayhem to come. Most found unease in the peace before a storm. She found comfort in it. A reason to make it through.<br><br>Mayhem greeted them even quicker than she'd imagined, but her focus lied on the impromptu battlefield and its participants above her own feelings. After the Spectre's speech most quelled their anger in favor of fear. But not the asari. A hotheaded mercenary lashing out at forces larger and more powerful than herself. Viella would have delighted in the nostalgia if she didn't have work to do.<br><br>Space collapsed around her, leaving a mist of biotic energy as her body vanished and reappeared in front of the Spectre team. Then, the remnants of energy still crackling about her body expanded, forming a field of midnight blue. To the untrained eye it appeared unstable, its gosimer shimmer too easily giving way to violent sparks as reaction upon reaction took place around her.<br><br>This field's purpose was to not only block, but consume the wave of energy thrown her team's way. To instill a fear even greater than what the asari merc felt now. And if it failed, she would gladly take the brunt of it. <br><br>"Don't be a fool, young one," she called as she attempted to hold the blast at bay, her voice only somewhat tense, genuinely caring, and only loud enough to be heard. "An early death would be too great a tragedy."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Mass Effect: Pandora {Prologue}</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>RobHumph</strong> on <strong>05-10-2021, 17:37:26</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(https://64.media.tumblr.com/cc9cf901ea0624deecb41c680c21c2f0/tumblr_p2el30QIkb1vv8bc4o1_500.png)</div> <br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">NAME:</span></strong> Jarv Valak (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=335654.msg15965415#msg15965415)<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">RACE:</span></strong> Batarian<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">OCCUPATION:</span></strong> Hired Security<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">DATE:</span></strong> December 18th, 2174 CE<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">WEARING:</span></strong> Battered old battle armour, still clean though<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">LOCATION:</span></strong> Enlil.&nbsp; Docking Bay Victor 12<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">CONTENT:</span></strong> Oops<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">TAG:</span></strong> Damn near everyone, open<br>&nbsp;<br><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><br>In hindsight, Jarv should've realised there were reinforcements earlier, but in his own defence, he argued later to himself he was a tad busy with the uppity mercs. The order to drop weapons and assume the compliant position had initially gone in one earhole and out the other, but it did leave a memo on the way through so not all was lost. So he'd already fired at Iraya by the time the ship's doors had opened, draining her shields in the process as she was apparently more interested in the new arrivals rather than the batarian actively shooting at her... oh well, that was her problem.<br><br>Having no hesitation, Jarv opened fire again on Iraya, intending to end her right there and then. It was only after he'd depressed the trigger for another second that his mind decided to actually read that memo... For once he complied, and short and (hopefully) lethal burst aside his tempest was quickly on the floor and his hands up in the air.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Mass Effect: Pandora {Prologue}</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Wheresmycow</strong> on <strong>08-10-2021, 02:08:40</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(https://i.imgur.com/kOfnT10.png)</div><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">NAME:</span></strong> Jorgal Drack (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=335654.msg15962217#msg15962217)<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">RACE:</span></strong> Krogan<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">OCCUPATION:</span></strong> Scout/Assassin<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">DATE:</span></strong> 18th December 2174 CE<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">WEARING:</span></strong> Krogan Combat Armour<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">LOCATION:</span></strong> Enlil.&nbsp; Docking Bay Victor 12<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">CONTENT:</span></strong> Not the Worst Family Gathering<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">TAG:</span></strong> Galeaus, Jarv, Sam, Viella, Zel<br><br><br><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><br>It was nice to know he hadn’t lost his touch when it came to dodging biotic blasts from a pissed off Asari.&nbsp; The buffer created by solid cement pillar meant that whatever tagged him felt more like uncomfortable waves of pressure washing over him and not much more than that, the force insufficient to shift his heavy bulk.&nbsp; Once he managed to get behind some full cover, that was when Drack heard Sam’s somewhat strained request.<br>“Right, sure kiddo,” the Krogan grumbled as he gently set her down on the ground.&nbsp; A delicate human like her probably wouldn’t have been able to handle it if he had simply dropped her.&nbsp; No longer burdened by her, he readied himself to start taking some shots of his own when he heard a ship getting ready to dock and a voice call out.<br>&nbsp;<br>“Fuck, a turian and a spectre?” Drack grumbled.&nbsp; “Just my varren shit luck.”<br>While some reinforcements were nice, he couldn’t muster much enthusiasm over the idea of a turian spectre trying to take charge of the situation.&nbsp; He didn’t trust turians much, he definitely didn’t trust the Council, and this Galeaus had a foot in both worlds.&nbsp; When the spectre made his demands, the krogan figured none of that applied to him since he was still actively protecting the doctor, so he kept his pistol and leaned out of cover enough to see which of the mercenaries were still going to be problems.&nbsp; Unsurprisingly, the hot-headed Asari decided to take her chances but the old Krogan was pleasantly surprised to see who came out to stop her.<br>&nbsp;<br>Drack waved with his free hand as he bellowed out, “Sister!&nbsp; What a time and a place to have a family reunion!”<br>The Krogan found his enthusiasm again.&nbsp; A spectre and his team were one thing, but this was his older sister: he could always trust family, especially one as reliable as Viella.&nbsp; While things had to be really serious if she was coming down to help solve whatever was going on, he felt that the odds of getting off this rock alive significantly improved with her presence.<br>&nbsp;<br>Any further words he had for her were drowned out by the sound of assault rifle fire from Jarv.&nbsp; Well, Viella might have wanted to spare the Asari, but Drack for one approved of the Batarian dealing with the problem once and for all.&nbsp; A psycho like that was too volatile and traitorous to have around.&nbsp; Drack also noticed that some of the other mercenaries had decided to slink off and pretend they weren’t involved.&nbsp; Too bad that he had a good memory, despite being old, and he could still pick them out from the crowd.&nbsp; He wasn’t going to immediately call them out, but he would remember their faces so he could handle them quietly later.&nbsp; There were a lot of accidents that could happen when things became hectic.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Mass Effect: Pandora {Prologue}</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Pink Professional</strong> on <strong>10-10-2021, 19:45:40</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(https://i.pinimg.com/564x/06/2a/7b/062a7b89e65aade4f736c10f2702987c.jpg)</div><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">NAME:</span></strong> Galeaus Centuri (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=335654.msg15962427#msg15962427)<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">RACE:</span></strong> Turian<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">OCCUPATION:</span></strong> Council Spectre<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">DATE:</span></strong> December 18th, 2174 CE<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">WEARING:</span></strong> Heavy Turian Armour, Orange-and-Black, <br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">LOCATION:</span></strong> Docking Bay Victor 12 Entrance<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">CONTENT:</span></strong> Finishing off the Asari.<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">TAG:</span></strong> Samantha Adams, Drax, Corvidae Crew, <em><strong>Everyone</strong></em>.<br>&nbsp;<br><br><br><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><br>Galeaus was, for the most part, content with how things went down. Upon the landing of the Corvidae, most people ceased their fighting. The majority of the potential threats seemed to shrink, and shirk from the idea of facing down a Spectre and his fully armed ship and crew. Most probably saw the flight-worthy ship as their first chance of escape in a very long week. <br><br>Most, but not all.<br><br>Iraya made attempts to throw her greatest biotic blast at the Spectre and his flock, and it caused Galeaus to enter a hunter's stance. He was springing towards the nearest wall and already sprinting forward before Viella even attempted her biotic defence, as well as a plea for the foolish young Asari's life. The Turian moved quickly, lithe muscles and expert training giving him a sprinter's pace. A ricochet of shots from the right had the predatory tilt of his birdlike neck fix on a Batarian for a second; one who'd fired on the Asari and then promptly dropped his gun. He made a mental note of the man's face, but returned his focus on the Asari, who'd been shot. Most of the small burst was absorbed by the biotic prowess of Iraya, who had shielded all but two of the bullets, which ripped holes through her shoulder and between a pair of ribs.<br><br>A gasp of pain from the Asari caused any chance of her matching biotic powers with Viella to stop, and within a handful of seconds the downed Merc would look up to see a barrel of an Assault Rifle pressed against her forehead. She'd tumbled to the ground as a result Jarv's burst, which the Turian pounced on. With a glance, the man had identified Iraya as what she was; a firebrand who had united dissident forces against the Prime Asset. She was a threat. More importantly, she was an example.<br><br>“Fu-” The Asari began to speak, before a single shot rang through the courtyard. It was a clean end to the already downed Merc, who had no Shields or Biotics to protect her from the slug.<br><br>“Fuck me, yeah. Sure.”&nbsp; Rolling his eyes, Galeaus then pulled his Omnitool up to his mouth, syncing the microphone within his suit's helmet with the systems of the Corvidae. Every Omnitool would be broadcast his message, loud enough to hear but not so blatant as to attract every single Diseased Unfortunate outside of the camp.<br><br>“<strong>Captain Galeaus speaking. Everyone except Samantha and the loud Krogan is to report in a line in front of the ship. You'll be divided into three groups by the Good Doctor based on your actions earlier, and either offered a job and a shower, a room to quarantine in aboard my ship, or a spot in the brig. Failure to comply will lead to...well...</strong>” He gestured towards the corpse of Iraya – The first and last example he hoped he would have to make. “<strong>Once we've dealt with you all, we will be setting up a base camp here. Please answer the questions of my crew if they ask them.</strong>”<br><br>He switched the frequency of his Omnitool to only broadcast to Viella and Mischa next, relaying a simple message to them. “Try to mingle and calm some people's nerves while I have a chat with the Primary Asset. Mischa, don't punch the Batarian yet; That's an order.”<br><br>With that done, Gale made a beeline towards Samantha and Drack. While passing Jarv, there was an uncomfortable second where the Turian passed the Batarian, staring at the man who had walked along a razor's edge with his stunt, before he shook his head trying to decide whether to scowl or smirk at him. He stood in front of the Krogan and the Doctor with very little pomp, only holstering his assault rifle once he'd gotten a chance to stare at the woman's face and confirm she matched her file's picture. Sure, a bit dirtier and more haggard, but still the same woman.<br><br>“Doctor Samantha Adams, I assume? And your Krogan protector.” He briefly looked at Drack, before nodding his head. “You did good work. This mission wouldn't likely be possible without this woman.” It was a matter of fact sort of thanks, but at least to Galeaus, there was no bad blood felt towards Krogans. Once-conquered enemies of his father's fathers; nothing more. His attention flicked back down to the shorter woman. One moment, he'd been forced to crane his neck up, and the next, craning it low. “It's good to meet you properly. We have a lot to discuss.” And then...<br><br>and then he turned and walked towards the ship's open doorway, wordlessly beckoning for the pair to follow. It was a slightly raised platform now, with the ship fully landed. More importantly, it was where the various mercs, civilians, scientists, and gathered abandoned would be sorting themselves into a huddle, ready to be sorted. “You can leave and speak with your 'Sister' if you like, mercenary. I already have you pegged as part of group A.” He spoke over his shoulder, not slowing down as he spoke. “Or don't. I'm not your boss yet.”&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Mass Effect: Pandora {Prologue}</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Malrunar</strong> on <strong>11-10-2021, 03:39:27</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(https://i.imgur.com/XsPFh1t.jpg)</div> <br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">NAME:</span></strong> Samantha Adams (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=335654.msg15962167#msg15962167)<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">RACE:</span></strong> Human<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">OCCUPATION:</span></strong> Doctor / Xeno-biologist<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">DATE:</span></strong> December 18th, 2174 CE<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">WEARING:</span></strong> This, but probably little ripped and wrinkled by now. (https://i.imgur.com/SZyvDUP.jpg)<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">LOCATION:</span></strong> <strong>Enlil</strong>. Docking Bay Victor-12, pavilion<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">CONTENT:</span></strong> How hot is the stove? Checking for burns.<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">TAG:</span></strong> Drack | Galeaus | OPEN<br>&nbsp;<br><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div> <br>Her legs were a little unsteady when they touched the ground, but the doctor gave an appreciative pat against the krogan’s arm none-the-less. Despite the dull ache in her ribs she was relatively unharmed, all thanks to the big-guy who swept in when it mattered most and kept her in one piece. It wasn’t her first time being in the middle of a fight, but she wasn’t under the illusion that she would have been able to hold her own against a paid professional. Even the salarian. There was more than one reason she settled into the medical profession; the woman was simply not violent, even if she understood it's purpose.<br><br>Sam needed a few seconds to settle her thoughts and adjust to the sudden shift of momentum as chaos and violence came to a screeching halt, but Samantha only received the time it took for the intimidating spectre to stalk across the platform and reach them. She was just relieved once Galeaus decided to holster his rifle and free his hands. She wasn’t convinced he wouldn’t try to pull the trigger on any one of her friends should the ‘need’ arise. <em>Is that really a fair assumption? Or is it because you're dealing with 'military authority' again?</em><br><br>Unconsciously though, even as she was making the connection, she was already moving to intercept the spectre and place herself between Drack and Jarv. As if an unarmed, untrained human had any chance of protecting very capable mercenaries that were constructed from some of the most dangerous DNA in the universe. She was protective even if she knew the turian could turn her into a red paste on the ground. Was it wasted effort or deeply rooted mechanics from past experience? Now was a good time to shuffle her feet and bashfully look away from the turian who was <em>clearly</em> not an admin. She was starting to regret her cursing out the Council for being ‘cheap assholes’… even if she meant every word of it.<br><br>“Uh-” And that was all the damn turian was willing to hear. Now that he had said his piece, Galeaus departed with a frustrating dismissal and a rather uncomfortable job assigned to the human. Sam winced and looked over at Drack, but chose to exhale her frustration out through her nose just in case turians had better hearing than she thought. Was is possible for the day to get more frustrating? <br><br>Samantha narrowed her eyes and balled her hands into fists, muttering to herself. “Now I see why Ash doesn't always make nice.” What a waste of life.<br><br>Reassured that her friends weren’t going to receive a bullet in the head, Sam trotted after the turian - two strides to his one- and seized him by the forearm before he could get too far ahead. She half-expected the contact to feel like an electric shock - but it was just cold, emotionless metal beneath her bare hand. “You know a lot of this could have been avoided if you hadn’t gone dark on me and told me who you were!” Frustration, not anger, peppered her words. Still, she released his arm before he made an excuse to pull the rifle off of his back again. She wasn’t in any rush to experience whiplash from the butt of a turian’s rifle, not after her taste for it on Shanxi.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Mass Effect: Pandora {Prologue}</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Wheresmycow</strong> on <strong>11-10-2021, 22:00:40</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(https://i.imgur.com/kOfnT10.png)</div><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">NAME:</span></strong> Jorgal Drack (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=335654.msg15962217#msg15962217)<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">RACE:</span></strong> Krogan<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">OCCUPATION:</span></strong> Scout/Assassin<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">DATE:</span></strong> 18th December 2174 CE<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">WEARING:</span></strong> Krogan Combat Armour<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">LOCATION:</span></strong> Enlil.&nbsp; Docking Bay Victor 12<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">CONTENT:</span></strong> Not the Worst Family Gathering<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">TAG:</span></strong> Galeaus, Jarv, Luus, Sam, Viella<br><br><br><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><br>Drack sized up Galeaus as the spectre made his way towards him and Sam.&nbsp; Well, he at least knew how to put them down, and while not the most inspiring speech, could clearly state his intentions.&nbsp; The Krogan still had his reservations about the Turian, but there was a glimmer of a possibility he could actually work with the man.<br>“For those mercs that sided with Juko, don't put your hopes on Sam missing your faces, because I didn't,” Drack's growled into his own omni-tool. “Make it easier on everyone by sorting yourselves into that third groups.&nbsp; Otherwise I'll rip off your arms and legs and use you as bait the next time I need to do a supply run.”<br>His tone left it nebulous as to whether or not it was a threat or a promise, something that could dangle over the traitorous mercenaries' head.&nbsp; Drack could be rather friendly and jovial for a Krogan, but he was still a Krogan to the bone and wouldn't shy away from terrible violence to make a point.<br><br>“Drack, and I'm just a merc doing the job I was paid for,” he shrugged.&nbsp; “And Sam's a good kid.&nbsp; Someone needed to look after her.”<br>He pointed towards Jarv, “As for getting those mercs in a line, I'll vouch for him, he was on the right side.&nbsp; Same with Luus.&nbsp; Those two you can lump together with me.”<br>Given the risk Jarv and Luus took by facing off against Juko and his ilk, it was only right that he spoke up for them in return, help them avoid any unpleasantness that might happen with Galeaus's sorting.&nbsp; Besides, Jarv may have proven himself to be the only Batarian that wasn't a piece of pyjak shit and Luus was one of the rare Turians Drack found tolerable, so they were both worth keeping around on just that alone.<br><br>Seeing Sam get all feisty, the old krogan had a hearty chuckle as he looked at Galeaus, “You're right, you aren't my boss, and that's not going to change.”<br>Drack laid a large hand on the doctor's shoulder.<br>“She's my boss and it's going to stay that way, no matter how things shake out.&nbsp; You look like you have a good head on your shoulders, but there's only one person I respect right now on your ship and even she won't be able to get me to budge on that.”<br>He looked the Turian up and down, “I'll leave the kid in your care while I talk with my sis.&nbsp; I hope she's all smiles and has a bounce in her step when I get back.”<br>The old krogan gave Sam a friendly hair ruffle before making his way towards Viella.<br><br>“It's good to see you sister, give me a hug!”
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Mass Effect: Pandora {Prologue}</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>thebobmaster</strong> on <strong>11-10-2021, 22:24:16</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<br><div class="floatleft">(https://i.redd.it/1q26kfsme4ry.png)</div> <br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">NAME:</span></strong> Zelgraviana "Zel" Belstris (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=335654.msg15963094#msg15963094)<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">RACE:</span></strong> Salarian<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">OCCUPATION:</span></strong> Chemist<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">DATE:</span></strong> December 18th, 2174 CE<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">WEARING:</span></strong> A rather dingy, dark blue version of this (https://i2.wp.com/i286.photobucket.com/albums/ll98/dacaz/4th%20Quarter%202012/DSCN9339.jpg)<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">LOCATION:</span></strong> <strong>Enlil</strong>. Docking Bay Victor-12<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">CONTENT:</span></strong> Calm after the storm<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">TAG:</span></strong> Galeus (mentioned), Open<br>&nbsp;<br><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><br>Once the firefight was over, Zel took a quick appraisal of herself, to make sure she wasn't injured. <em>I got lucky. Let myself be caught in a situation where I couldn't do anything but hide and hope. Not exactly ideal.</em><br><br>And then the order came from the turian who arrived. <em>Oh, boy. This guy sounds like he'll be a lot of fun. Just a completely relaxed turian.</em> Sighing softly, Zel sprinted back to her lab, gathering up the bags she had previously left behind before immediately making her way to the ship as Galeus had instructed. She had a feeling that this was the last chance she was going to have to get those bags, and she was not about to let herself get caught without them again.<br><br>As she made her way to the ship, the three bags hanging loosely over her lab coat, she glanced around at the others. Doctor Sam seemed to be in decent hands...if not spirits, given how she was addressing the turian Spectre. At least, he seemed to act with the authority of one, and given that she'd heard that the Council was getting involved with the quarantine situation, it only made sense that they'd send down a Spectre. Out of the three choices on offer, she'd be more than happy to take Option A. She didn't need a quarantine, and...well, spending time in the brig sounded like she had done something wrong. Criminally, that is, not simply negligence. Besides, there was no lab in the brig. Hopefully, there was one on the ship. It had been a while since she hadn't needed to jury-rig a lab up. Or at least, it felt that way to her.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Mass Effect: Pandora {Prologue}</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>RobHumph</strong> on <strong>13-10-2021, 02:51:59</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(https://64.media.tumblr.com/cc9cf901ea0624deecb41c680c21c2f0/tumblr_p2el30QIkb1vv8bc4o1_500.png)</div> <br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">NAME:</span></strong> Jarv Valak (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=335654.msg15965415#msg15965415)<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">RACE:</span></strong> Batarian<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">OCCUPATION:</span></strong> Hired Security<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">DATE:</span></strong> December 18th, 2174 CE<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">WEARING:</span></strong> Battered old battle armour, still clean though<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">LOCATION:</span></strong> Enlil.&nbsp; Docking Bay Victor 12<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">CONTENT:</span></strong> Well la di da oh my a SPECTRE how fancy...<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">TAG:</span></strong> Damn near everyone, open<br>&nbsp;<br><br><br><hr><hr><br>Jarv was severely disappointed that he had only managed to wound the asari before he put his gun down, and even more disappointed when the high and mighty SPECTRE decided to do what he had denied Jarv, kill the bitch. Still, he didn't move until the turian spoke further, four dark eyes narrowing in the direction of one of the Councils lapdogs. Just like them to show up at a place like this. He shouldn't complain, they usually know what they're doing, but they sure counterbalance it by acting like they own the place just because three uppity pyjaks in a tower called the special.<br><br>The eyes narrowed further at the command. Course he had to make it difficult, line up with the sods who'd started the whole mess. Couldn't tell by the fact he was clearly shooting away from doc, no sir, couldn't tell anything from a position or anything, bloody turians. As such Jarv didn't move for a good few moments, enough for the SPECTRE to get closer and shake his head at him, something that earnt him what any batarian would say was a murder glare, fortunately, few aliens could make out anything in a batarians eyes with any degree of certainty, though it was obviously not a happy glare. He didn't say a word to him, knowing that would just start more trouble, so eventually, Jarv began to move off.<br><br>Then Drack came to the rescue. Jarv took a note that he owed the krogan a drink or twelve. "Cheers, Drack." It was all he said. He had also clearly not gone towards the merc line up of shame, considering the matter already done and sorted after Drack had given his input.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Mass Effect: Pandora {Prologue}</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Malrunar</strong> on <strong>13-10-2021, 03:23:25</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(https://i.imgur.com/Ey3kNQB.jpg)</div> <br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">NAME:</span></strong> Ashton Chase (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=335654.msg15965992#msg15965992)<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">RACE:</span></strong> Human<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">OCCUPATION:</span></strong> N7 - Alliance military<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">DATE:</span></strong> December 18th, 2174 CE<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">WEARING:</span></strong> Scuffed, battle scarred and faded (https://i.imgur.com/ZBZ0RtB.jpg)<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">LOCATION:</span></strong> <strong>Enlil</strong>. Docking Bay Victor-12, Pavilion<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">CONTENT:</span></strong> Where's my happy ending? <br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">TAG:</span></strong> All | OPEN<br>&nbsp;<br><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><br>“And just like that, the magic was gone.” What did you get when you crossed a viral outbreak with the Council and their unleashed Spectre? A political nightmare that both amused Ashton Chase to no end, and filled her chest with frustration and anxiety. The human could only speculate as to why the Alliance hadn’t responded to any of her attempts to make contact with any of them… none of her conclusions provided any comfort. It was one thing to blast the moon to high hell in an attempt to cover up their tracks, but sending a Spectre just meant things were likely to get worse.<br><br>Suddenly the idea of this outbreak becomes more daunting and less of a sick joke. She was a little more motivated to understand the ‘why’ of it all.<br><br>Ash made sure that none of the civilians she spent time protecting were in need of medical services, and then flicked her Omni-tool to silent when the Spectre made his grand speech. Maybe she wasn’t in the mood to listen because the fun of this chaos was starting to melt away. Or maybe she was just cranky because the party ended before she could really start to dance.<br><br>She had really wanted to vent out her frustration by punching someone in the face, so that’s what she was intending to do. “Hey, you! The<em>gran bastardo</em>!” She made no attempt at subtlety, speaking directly to the tallest cybernetically-enthusiastic man she had ever seen. “You see which way those turian douche-bags went from your vantage point way up there? The ones with yellow face paint.”<br><br>The N7 craned her head around, frowning. “Speaking of turian assholes… where’s that runt that has my smokes?”
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Mass Effect: Pandora {Prologue}</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Cold Heritage</strong> on <strong>13-10-2021, 05:28:38</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(https://i.imgur.com/ztzn712.jpg)</div> <br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">NAME:</span></strong> Mischa Harms (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=335654.msg15965217#msg15965217)<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">RACE:</span></strong> Human<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">OCCUPATION:</span></strong> Soldier<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">DATE:</span></strong> December 18th, 2174 CE<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">WEARING:</span></strong> Heavy armour<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">LOCATION:</span></strong> Docking Bay Victor 12<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">CONTENT:</span></strong> Mischa Does Not Do The Thing And It Is Regarded As The Worst Choice In The History of Choices, The Worst Choice Ever<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">TAG:</span></strong> Jarv, Ashton, OG Zel, Turian NPCs<br>&nbsp;<br><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><br>Mischa watched emotionlessly as Galeaus executed the Asari. He was indifferent to the morality of the action, and his eyes soon darted to other potential targets. There appeared to be no others and he kept his weapon lowered but ready, trigger discipline in full force. He took several slow, steady strides forward, trundling among the mercenaries as directed. He noted that the Salarian was quick to comply and so he did not dwell on . . . him? Her? His cursory knowledge suggested that the Salarian was more likely to be a male but it was not easy to tell with Salarians. They lacked the sexual dimorphism humans had evolved. To Mischa's eyes so did Krogans. But it was the same with that species. Few females left the homeworld, as he understood it, due to the effects of the Genophage. <br><br>One of the mercenaries, a human female, chose to address him. Mischa looked at her and his face was visible through the faceplate of his helmet but it was inexpressive, blank, and ungiving. There was nothing in his eyes but a thousand yard stare and he did not expect Ashton to be impressed by it. It was quite likely a very familiar expression to someone who made N7. If he were capable of it in the moment Mischa might have been awed to be in the presence of one of the human fighting elite - the N7s were the superlative soldiers of the species. Perhaps envy her greater skills, (imagined) prestige, and value. He would have offered her a pack of his own cigarettes, even. But he was not in a mindset for any of that, did not offer any cigarettes, and he stopped only briefly.<br><br><strong>"Your compliance with the order issued by the Spectre is appreciated, ma'am. Please proceed to the location specified and form a line in an orderly fashion; this will ensure swift and efficient resolution of this matter."</strong> Mischa said mechanically, without emotional inflection. <br><br>Then he continued, and spoke to the Batarian. <strong>"Batarian mercenary, halt. Please to proceed to the location specified and form a line in an orderly fashion. Your compliance is appreciated and will ensure this matter is resolved in a swift and efficient manner."</strong> Despite the deep-seated and well-cultivated speciesism that Mischa held in his heart towards all Batarians he spoke to Jarv in the same manner that he addressed Ashton. Without emotion or prejudice. <br><br>After he spoke he continued. He had spotted the Turians with yellow face paint. One appeared to be helping another to leave. They were yet located near the barrier where they had taken cover. Mischa stopped. He gave the pair a critical examination. <strong>"Turian mercenaries. Please proceed to the location specified and form a line in an orderly fashion. Your compliance with the Spectre's order is appreciated and will ensure swift and efficient resolution to this matter."</strong> The tall cyborg did not imagine that there would be trouble with these two. Turians had a cultural inclination towards obedience and submission to hierarchy, and Mischa assumed that Galeaus would be higher than these two within the Turian hierarchy. Like ants, really. But he was also prepared to be wrong if they did not comply. <br><br>Compliance was not, after all, mandatory. They were free not to comply and suffer the consequences thereof. Did those consequences include a giant human cyborg with a light machine gun ready, willing, and able to gun them down without a qualm or compunction? Yes. But they were still free. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Mass Effect: Pandora {Prologue}</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Pink Professional</strong> on <strong>13-10-2021, 20:21:01</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(https://i.pinimg.com/564x/06/2a/7b/062a7b89e65aade4f736c10f2702987c.jpg)</div> <br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">NAME:</span></strong> Galeaus Centuri (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=335654.msg15962427#msg15962427)<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">RACE:</span></strong> Turian<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">OCCUPATION:</span></strong> Council Spectre<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">DATE:</span></strong> December 18th, 2174 CE<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">WEARING:</span></strong> Heavy Turian Armour, Orange-and-Black, without Helmet.<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">LOCATION:</span></strong> Enlil Hanger<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">CONTENT:</span></strong> Walk with me, Doc.<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">TAG:</span></strong> Sam, Drack.<br>&nbsp;<br><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><br>Thoughts moved through Galeaus' head as he tried to start piecing together the base and what could be done with it. Perhaps a triage centre in the left corner? An emergency armoury in the back right? They'd need to strengthen the walls, and maybe set up a more rigorous patrol? It would be good if they could start making an actual bastion out of this location. Somewhere survivors would be able to flock to, and a place to repel attacks from whatever creatures were spawned by this virus. Was it fair to call it a virus? He would need to a-<br><br>“What?” He said, recoiling partially in surprise as he turned to see Samantha grasping at his arm. He let himself settle as she started to talk, shrugging his arm in an attempt to free himself from her grasp. He had no doubt he could brute force himself free, but it would be a poor show if he assaulted a doctor he'd supposedly came to rescue within the first five minutes of meeting her. <br><br>She questioned his silence, and he paused for a second. Drack spoke too, trying to vouch for others in the crowd. At least the Krogan was a sensible enough sort. Perhaps a touch on the impertinent side, but most Krogans were. “I've spent the last seven hours gathering an emergency crew. Before that, about twenty earning the right to try and save Enlil, as opposed to glassing it from Orbit, as the Council both wanted, and insisted upon for nearly two-goddamn-days.” His voice was quiet enough that only Samantha and Drack would be able to hear him. “Would knowing that the person gently prickling you for information was a Spectre have helped you? Or would it have made you panic? Maybe it would have made you exaggerate, or bluster. Sadly, <em>Miss Adams</em>...” The woman's name was spoken through gritted teeth, to emphasise the frustration and, truthfully, exhaustion in the Spectre's voice. “...I don't know you. I can't even fully trust you yet. The Council hasn't even fully brought out of the idea that you were the one who spread this Virus. Took me four hours talking in circles with that ass Valern before h-” <br><br>He inhaled, then exhaled; censoring himself with his own lung's motions. The slow, singular breath was cleansing. It helped him centre himself and return to the professional that he was meant to be. “As for you, Drack. I appreciate your vouches, and your loyalty, but as I understand it your kid here is broke.” He glanced down at Samantha, somehow looking smug despite a face obscured by a mask. “Thankfully, as a Spectre that is something I can help with. Once Miss Adams has picked out her trusted team, I can wire her enough funds to pay you off, and potentially extend your contract for two weeks.” He knew the Krogan was going to be a minor problem, but most things in the mercenary world could be solved with money and influence. Spectres got both of those for free. "If she is willing to work with me, I'm sure she can keep a team of morally dubious guns-for-hire near my ship. Even the ones who ignore a direct order from the people with superior firepower to not do anything rash, like shoot a live weapon in the middle of a tense landing." No points for guessing which four-eyed man Galeaus was talking about there.<br><br>It was about that point that the Krogan offered up his supposed 'Kid' so he could go and play catch-up. <br><br>Typical.<br><br>With Drack going off to find Viella, Galeaus nodded towards an upturned crate out of the way for Samantha to potentially follow him. Whether she was immediately willing or not, he eventually sat himself on the box and stared at the woman; likely close to as tall sitting down as she was standing. “Let's start with the Virus. How is it spread? I assume it isn't airborne, or passed on by saliva. Do you have much that's concrete yet, or are you planning to be grumpy at me some more?”
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Mass Effect: Pandora {Prologue}</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Malrunar</strong> on <strong>14-10-2021, 05:14:24</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(https://i.imgur.com/XsPFh1t.jpg)</div> <br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">NAME:</span></strong> Samantha Adams (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=335654.msg15962167#msg15962167)<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">RACE:</span></strong> Human<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">OCCUPATION:</span></strong> Doctor / Xeno-biologist<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">DATE:</span></strong> December 18th, 2174 CE<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">WEARING:</span></strong> This, but probably little ripped and wrinkled by now. (https://i.imgur.com/SZyvDUP.jpg)<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">LOCATION:</span></strong> <strong>Enlil</strong>. Docking Bay Victor-12, pavilion<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">CONTENT:</span></strong> Feeling that burn.<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">TAG:</span></strong> Galeaus | OPEN<br>&nbsp;<br><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><br>There was a lot she wanted to say to Galeaus, explanations and counter-arguments and maybe even a sharp rebuttal about the simple fact that he knew nothing about her. Samantha wasn’t the sort who let emotions guide her actions like some naive pup who hadn’t tasted the backhanded slap of the universe. She understood the weight of difficult decisions and making the tough calls. She was well aware of consequences and having to play ‘the game’ sometimes just to get things moving forward. But Galeaus was a spectre, and he was no stranger when it came to locating vulnerable chinks in his enemy’s armor. He wasn’t pulling any punches but Sam took those emotional blows without batting a single eyelash.<br><br><em>Ouch.</em> Internally, however, it was tearing her up inside. She kept silent not because she was a push-over, but because she knew how arguing and fighting wouldn’t solve any of their problems. It didn’t matter that she hadn’t slept for four days, depending solely on stims just so she could keep her eyelids open. The doctor didn’t bring up the hell that they all went through while the politicians preened and argued and lived up to every reason why she loathed authority. Sam really didn’t want to think about her time in the labs...<br><br>She looked away so she could clear any lingering expression from her face, withdraw the emotion from her eyes and pull back into that crowded space she built for herself whenever she was giving someone bad news about their health. <br><br><em>Is that what they really think? That I would do something like this? Or are they just planting convenient rumors for when they’re feeling lazy?</em><br><br>Her time working with the Sirta Foundation to develop and expand the use of Medi-gel to alien physiology had earned her Council praise just a few years ago. Now they were keen to make her their scapegoat? Samantha wasn’t surprised… but that was another deep cut to add to the collection. <br><br>“You’ll have to forgive me,” The doctor’s tone was as flat and deadpan as her gray eyes, not the color of the storm that raged inside her head, but dull and impenetrable like a well fortified bunker. His jab about her pleasantness <em>plinked</em> right off of her newly-enforced armor and seemed to land somewhere on the ground, discarded. “The council can drink wet shit from a sick varren for all I care. They want to manipulate and fabricate some fantastical story about how all of this is some <em>blah blah blah</em> ‘conspiracy’ directed towards them -or&nbsp; use me as some political red herring? Fine. But they can do it <em>after</em> we figure out what the hell is happening here and work on getting a cure.”<br><br>She forced her shoulders to relax, even if she was anything but relaxed. She didn’t even want to think about her cortisol levels… there was a reason she had shut that alarm off a long time ago. “I don’t know enough to give specifics yet, there hasn’t been much time to study the data we’ve been collecting. But breathing the air has no adverse effects. No one who has been attacked by any of the victims have had any side-effects past intense immune responses and short-lived fevers. It’s really those beasts you have to stay clear of. They’re not native to the Phoebus. I’d bet that they’re genetically modified but I’d need samples to be certain. Bites from those things will… alterate. Their claws don’t seem to have the same effect -except on the large white ones. Stay far away from those things.”
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Mass Effect: Pandora {Prologue}</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Rummy Tum Tum</strong> on <strong>16-10-2021, 04:19:29</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(https://pbs.twimg.com/media/EJI9C1cUcAA3cZa?format=jpg&amp;name=4096x4096)</div> <br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">NAME:</span></strong> Viella D'aix (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=335654.msg15965930#msg15965930)<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">RACE:</span></strong> Asari<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">OCCUPATION:</span></strong> Soldier<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">DATE:</span></strong> December 18th, 2174 CE<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">WEARING:</span></strong> Armor as shown.<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">LOCATION:</span></strong> Enlil. Docking Bay Victor-12, Pavilion<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">CONTENT:</span></strong> Family reunion.<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">TAG:</span></strong> Drack<br>&nbsp;<br><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div> <br>An order ignored and a merc dead. In truth, if one of her teammates declared it necessary, she would not have had a problem with this asari's death; especially if it were the order of Galeus. She had killed many more for much less, all in the name of justice. It had been so easy then, but now...<br><br>Now this death had come from an ignored order. From a batarian, no less. It rankled her, she could not deny that truth, far more than it would have for any krogan, human, or otherwise. The batarians had always held her ire, despite her best efforts, and she would keep her eye on this one.<br><br>At least until a nearby call of 'sister' stole her attention away. "Drack?" Her eyes narrowed a moment, then she shook her head and smiled, answering his request and pulling him in for a hug. "Of course you'd be here. Another scrape I'll have to get you out of." A smirk, tiny yet full of mirth, etched across her face as she looked up at her little brother.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Mass Effect: Pandora {Prologue}</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Rummy Tum Tum</strong> on <strong>16-10-2021, 04:36:17</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(https://cdn.weasyl.com/static/media/1b/a7/33/1ba733b406a74f55b4a190775935aa1f316f55e3577991f401613a009bbbce81.jpg)</div> <br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">NAME:</span></strong> Luus Remeril (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=335654.msg15962213#msg15962213)<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">RACE:</span></strong> Turian<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">OCCUPATION:</span></strong> Merc<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">DATE:</span></strong> December 18th, 2174 CE<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">WEARING:</span></strong> Heavy Turian armor.<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">LOCATION:</span></strong> Enlil. Docking Bay Victor-12, pavilion<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">CONTENT:</span></strong> Who you calling runt?<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">TAG:</span></strong> Ash<br>&nbsp;<br><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div> <br>One down, and for just a moment, there were many to go. But a flash and the drowning jets of an landing dropship slowed things to a halt. For most of the traitors, at the very least. One dumbass of an asari thought it smart to attack the emerging spectre and his squad. She was shot down, then eliminated, in short order. Most of the others slipped into the crowd, and he clocked a few of them, including the one who fired on the irritating, shit talking human who'd lent him cigs.<br><br>And speaking of, now she was looking for him. And calling him 'runt' at that. Even from this distance she looked like one of those earthling shrimp in comparison to him, but here she was doing what she obviously did best. He shook his head, popped <em>his </em>cig in his maw, and approached, looking down as he loomed over her. "Hey shrimp, you rang?" A puff of smoke followed, which he courteously breathed above her curly head.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Mass Effect: Pandora {Prologue}</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Pink Professional</strong> on <strong>17-10-2021, 23:11:50</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(https://i.pinimg.com/564x/06/2a/7b/062a7b89e65aade4f736c10f2702987c.jpg)</div> <br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">NAME:</span></strong> Galeaus Centuri (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=335654.msg15962427#msg15962427)<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">RACE:</span></strong> Turian<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">OCCUPATION:</span></strong> Council Spectre<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">DATE:</span></strong> December 18th, 2174 CE<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">WEARING:</span></strong> Heavy Turian Armour, Orange-and-Black, without Helmet.<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">LOCATION:</span></strong> Enlil Hanger<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">CONTENT:</span></strong> Walk with me, Doc.<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">TAG:</span></strong> Sam, [Mentioned] Mischa and Viella.<br>&nbsp;<br><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><br>The woman's tone was...honestly a bit more comforting for Galeaus than he might openly admit. He'd spent too much time with the Council and its bureaucrats recently. His crew was a small solace, but the burden of leadership was to strain your relationships with those you led. It demanded a degree of respect and adherence that made conversation just that little bit fake, and that little bit false. Viella and Mischa would be fair and honest, but both had to be burdened with being supplicants to the Spectre. Samantha, in contrast, was not so bound. She could be rude, crass, and blunt. She used that freedom immediately, giving a vibrant and vivid description of her thoughts on the Council. “I don't disagree, but why am I the one punished with the mental image of runny Varren crap?” He chuckled, listening as the Doctor went on to talk about the situation itself.<br><br>The confirmation that this...disease? Was it right to call it a disease? Whatever it was, it wasn't airborne, and it wasn't transferred by anything but overtly. The Turian breathed a sigh of relief, before reaching up and pulling at the latches of his armour's helmet. One, two, three, four latches were yanked off before he was able to twist the seal loose enough to start the suit's auto-disengage system for the helm. With a few more whirs of mechanical motion, the helmet receded into the armour and revealed the Turian's avian features. Sharp, strong, slender, and without the normal painted marks of the species that denoted home-world or clan. He took a second to inhale the air, before his nose wrinkled. Smoke, death, and pollution. Yup, that checked out. “Alright. So we need to prioritise establishing and strengthening a perimeter, setting up a laboratory, and getting you a sample. What else do you need to make this work?” He was in work mode at the moment, even if the woman opposite was in desperate need of something to smile about. He imagined that if Viella and Mischa were interested, they'd notice him with his helmet off and know they could remove their own, but he sent a message via Omnitool to inform them of the same thing regardless. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Mass Effect: Pandora {Prologue}</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>RobHumph</strong> on <strong>18-10-2021, 02:55:16</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(https://64.media.tumblr.com/cc9cf901ea0624deecb41c680c21c2f0/tumblr_p2el30QIkb1vv8bc4o1_500.png)</div> <br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">NAME:</span></strong> Jarv Valak (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=335654.msg15965415#msg15965415)<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">RACE:</span></strong> Batarian<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">OCCUPATION:</span></strong> Hired Security<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">DATE:</span></strong> December 18th, 2174 CE<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">WEARING:</span></strong> Battered old battle armour, still clean though<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">LOCATION:</span></strong> Enlil.&nbsp; Docking Bay Victor 12<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">CONTENT:</span></strong> Well okay then...<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">TAG:</span></strong> Damn near everyone, open<br>&nbsp;<br><br><br><hr><hr><br>Despite Jarv's assumption that he had in fact been vouched for, a big and frankly absurdly metallic human ordered him into line along with all the others. That the human also sounded like a bloody mech caused him to raise a hairless brow, hadn't taken the brain out as well had they? "Appreciated? Sure human, I'll believe it when I see it." He muttered but went along with the orders. The SPECTRE was clearly not in a tolerable mood and did not think above shooting someone for being a threat... while also admiring someone else for doing the exact same sodding thing, fucking council lackeys.<br><br>Trudging over to the growing line of mercs, Jarv crossed his arms and settled into his usual belligerent mood, almost daring the cyborg to try his luck with a few glares thrown his way. He did see (and hear a little) the SPECTRE talk with the doctor. It didn't look good, and that brought Jarv's mood down even further. At least the plague victims weren't attacking right now, or yet at least. He wondered how the SPECTRE and human would deal with that, the asari would handle it well he figured, the other two it might be fun to watch them be in a situation they couldn't just smugly order their way out of.<br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Mass Effect: Pandora {Prologue}</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Malrunar</strong> on <strong>18-10-2021, 14:13:00</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(https://i.imgur.com/Ey3kNQB.jpg)</div> <br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">NAME:</span></strong> Ashton Chase (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=335654.msg15965992#msg15965992)<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">RACE:</span></strong> Human<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">OCCUPATION:</span></strong> N7 - Alliance military<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">DATE:</span></strong> December 18th, 2174 CE<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">WEARING:</span></strong> Scuffed, battle scarred and faded (https://i.imgur.com/ZBZ0RtB.jpg)<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">LOCATION:</span></strong> <strong>Enlil</strong>. Docking Bay Victor-12, Pavilion<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">CONTENT:</span></strong> A turian, a human and a batarian walked into a bar...<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">TAG:</span></strong> Luus, Jarv, Mischa | OPEN<br>&nbsp;<br><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><br><br>This was starting to feel like the build up of a horrible punchline. Ashton stood beside the smoking turian once again; who was standing well above her own head, and a grumbling batarian who never seemed to be enjoying himself, whatever the situation. Then there was… well, whatever the cybernetic junky’s name was. She was about to make a passing joke about the Council using A.I’s, but with that flat, emotionless voice of his the N7 was pretty certain the man didn’t have enough personality to be an A.I.<br><br>“Sex bot?” She asked the two aliens she stood beside. She didn’t think she needed to ‘subtly’ nod in Mischa’s direction with her chin, so she tapped it instead with one finger in contemplation. “Wait wait... I’ve got this.”<br><br>Anyone who spent more than five minutes with Ashton knew what was ahead. She was about to spew absolute bullshit for the sake of her own entertainment. Maybe it wasn’t such a surprise that the Alliance didn’t answer her calls after all? She might have been absolutely ruthless and skilled in combat, but when it came to eloquence, she really didn’t have an ounce of it anywhere. You didn’t send Ash on the job if you wanted subtly. Or if you needed someone to talk through problems.<br><br>“I bet he’s a refurbished sex-bot that worked with the consort, got upgraded with the wrong tech, and sent some ambassador into a coma when the ‘Thrust-o-matic’ wasn’t disengaging. A little hacking, a little upgrading and splicing -<em>boom</em>!” She held out both hands to create a frame at Mischa’s back, tilting her head to the side as she squinted through the square of her fingers. “Not only is he the life of the party, he’s great for stress relief. Assuming you get turned on by flat, autonomic voices demanding you call it ‘daddy’.”<br><br>Ashton patted her hip, then pulled out another pack of cigarettes. Once she plucked the first one in her mouth, she offered the pack to Jarv. “So how fucked are we?”
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Mass Effect: Pandora {Prologue}</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Malrunar</strong> on <strong>18-10-2021, 15:21:06</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(https://i.imgur.com/XsPFh1t.jpg)</div> <br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">NAME:</span></strong> Samantha Adams (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=335654.msg15962167#msg15962167)<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">RACE:</span></strong> Human<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">OCCUPATION:</span></strong> Doctor / Xeno-biologist<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">DATE:</span></strong> December 18th, 2174 CE<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">WEARING:</span></strong> This, but probably little ripped and wrinkled by now. (https://i.imgur.com/SZyvDUP.jpg)<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">LOCATION:</span></strong> <strong>Enlil</strong>. Docking Bay Victor-12, pavilion<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">CONTENT:</span></strong> Not buying it. <br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">TAG:</span></strong> Galeaus | OPEN<br>&nbsp;<br><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><br><br>The lack of expression on her face didn’t change: Sam’s guard was up and it was going to take a lot more than a pleasant chuckle to bring it back down again. She was prepared for the long game, she was prepared to play her cards well and to put her own emotional needs behind her in order to make the intellectual decisions. That was why she hired mercenaries to hold this point in the first place. Either Galeaus understood this on some unconscious level and removed his helmet to make himself more relatable, or the bastard did some research and prepared in advance for a devastating war of mind games.<br><br>It wasn’t that seeing a turian without face markings was impossible… it was just not what she was expecting. Through her own bias and memory she had already imagined white streaks to cover most of his face -perhaps a green starburst over the left side. No marks meant a few different things but for a spectre it could only mean one thing in particular. She arched a brow, crossed her arms at her chest, but didn’t say a word.<br><br>Was she being paranoid? Should she feel relieved? Between muscle aches, fatigue and emotional trauma it would have been a relief not to feel anything at all. She couldn’t imagine what the others must have been going through. For some; it was just more of the same. But for others?<br><br>They had civilians here, a few souls who had coward behind Ashton’s barriers and passed through most of their recent days in a trance. It wasn’t ‘normal’ for people to experience blood and violence at these extremes, it wasn’t normal to endure this amount of stress for as long as they have. Yet here they were, stuck in an ugly situation with ‘forward’ being the only way to go. Some people will manage while others won’t. Sometimes that was just the way of things.<br><br>Sam lifted a hand and pushed it through her short hair, ruffling it like ebony feathers. “My people need sleep. A good meal. Basic medicine. We’ve been managing on scavenged goods but those who have been fighting are undernourished. They need some down time so they don’t burn out or start fighting one another.” Again. “Moral is low. Other than what you’ve already mentioned; get me those samples and I can tell you what we’re dealing with.”
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Mass Effect: Pandora {Prologue}</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Pink Professional</strong> on <strong>18-10-2021, 22:09:09</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(https://i.pinimg.com/564x/06/2a/7b/062a7b89e65aade4f736c10f2702987c.jpg)</div> <br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">NAME:</span></strong> Galeaus Centuri (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=335654.msg15962427#msg15962427)<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">RACE:</span></strong> Turian<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">OCCUPATION:</span></strong> Council Spectre<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">DATE:</span></strong> December 18th, 2174 CE<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">WEARING:</span></strong> Heavy Turian Armour, Orange-and-Black, without Helmet.<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">LOCATION:</span></strong> Enlil Hanger<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">CONTENT:</span></strong> Talk to me, Doc.<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">TAG:</span></strong> Sam.<br>&nbsp;<br><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><br>He had expected the coldness, but he was surprised by the brief look of...recognition that came with his unveiling? He wasn't expecting a human to understand the significance of his lack of markings, but then she was a Xeno-biologist. Perhaps her understanding of the mechanisms behind the other races in the Universe came with an attached desire to know more about the inner mechanisms too. It was pleasant that she didn't ask too many questions about it, at least. He wasn't sure he'd be professional enough to not be cranky when talking about the shitshow that came with that story.<br><br>"How much did you offer to pay each of your mercs? I'll wire the credits so you can settle your debts, and then we can start working out a rota for patrols. Mischa and Viella are fresh enough to man a watch immediately, and I have a couple of security officers aboard my ship who can patrol and play tourguide to your people...Get them starting to recuperate. Does the Krogan speak for you? Are you vouching for the trigger happy Batarian, and this 'Luus'?" He glanced behind her to look at the gathering mess of people at the ship's entrance, unaware who or even what Luus was. Already there was the start of some groups forming; a few of the more cowardly dissidents having realised their time was up when the Krogan had called out that he knew their faces. Some would push it, but the big scary Cyborg and the Asari who had effortlessly blocked the Big-Hitter's biotic attack would probably do enough to dissuade them from doing anything too stupid. He caught sight of the woman giving Mischa shit, and frowned. "What about the lippy human? The one shouting something about a sex-bot? She has dumb Merc energy."<br><br>He took a moment to stretch his arm above his shoulder, loosening up for what he hoped would be the last push before he got some shut-eye himself. He could do with being rested himself for when shit hit the fan in, what seemed like, a day or two. "Pick out your squad, then I'll go tell people where they can sleep, and <em>then</em> I can get the rest of my crew on board the Corvidae to start setting up some provisional work areas. A light field-lap, some cots, maybe a communal eating area. We've got enough supplies to get people a night's rest and a full stomach...and showers. I meant it when I said you all need showers."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Mass Effect: Pandora {Prologue}</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Wheresmycow</strong> on <strong>19-10-2021, 06:23:39</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(https://i.imgur.com/kOfnT10.png)</div><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">NAME:</span></strong> Jorgal Drack (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=335654.msg15962217#msg15962217)<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">RACE:</span></strong> Krogan<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">OCCUPATION:</span></strong> Scout/Assassin<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">DATE:</span></strong> 18th December 2174 CE<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">WEARING:</span></strong> Krogan Combat Armour<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">LOCATION:</span></strong> Enlil.&nbsp; Docking Bay Victor 12<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">CONTENT:</span></strong> Family Picnic<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">TAG:</span></strong> Jarv, Luus, Viella<br><br><br><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><br>Drack laughed loudly into Viella's ear as he hugged her, lifting her off of the ground in the process.<br>“Of course, where else would I be but right in the middle of trouble?” he chortled. &nbsp;“Though it'll be me keeping trouble off of your back, since you've always liked to get more stuck in than me.”<br>He gave one more warm and affectionate squeeze, enough to creak the bones of anyone less sturdy, and set his older sister back down on the ground.&nbsp; Enlil was still a complete fucking mess, but knowing that she was here, someone he could definitely depend on, helped him feel better about the entire situation.&nbsp; While the danger they faced hadn't changed, the amount of firepower they had skyrocketed and that took some pressure off of his back. Things were starting to feel like a family outing, similar to the camping trips he used to take his youngest out on.<br><br>The Krogan looked around him, slightly gratified at the sight of some of the mercs realizing the jig was up and they should behave.&nbsp; Only slightly gratified because there were still some that either thought they were sneaky enough to get away with hiding or were too damn belligerent for their own good and his convenience.&nbsp; Well, could always use more examples to convince any mercs still on the fence to know which side they should pick.<br>“Welcome to paradise sister, you're going to love it here,” Drack grumbled as his mirthful energy settled down to his usual cantankerous simmer. &nbsp;“All the mindless monsters you could ever want to put down.&nbsp; Near as I can tell, they like to move in packs, are easily attracted to loud noises, and fight with no regard for their own safety. Makes 'em pretty strong and stupid, which can be pretty bad in big enough numbers.&nbsp; Don't let 'em bite you, and try to avoid getting clawed too.”<br>He'd seen a few mercs die gruesome deaths at the hands of those creatures, or get infected and inevitably have to be put down before they also turned.<br><br>Seeing Jarv still being made to line up with the rest, Drack frowned with discontent.<br>“What's this?&nbsp; How come your Spectre hasn't given him the all-clear yet?&nbsp; He's one of the reasons why that firefight you stepped into wasn't as bad as it could have been.”<br>The Krogan looked around to spot anyone else who could confirm his words and spotted Zel.<br>“Hey, you, Salarian, uh, Zel, right.&nbsp; You're the chemist that was with us when Juko wanted to pretend to be tougher than he really was.&nbsp; You also got him with the freeze as well.&nbsp; Tell 'em that Jarv was on our side when things kicked off, even told Juko off before the grenades started flying.&nbsp; And Luus took out one of the marksmen that could have put a bullet through any of our heads.”<br>He shook his head.<br>“I know how much Citadel likes its procedure, but now's not the time for that.”
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Mass Effect: Pandora {Prologue}</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>thebobmaster</strong> on <strong>19-10-2021, 06:34:36</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<br><div class="floatleft">(https://i.redd.it/1q26kfsme4ry.png)</div> <br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">NAME:</span></strong> Zelgraviana "Zel" Belstris (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=335654.msg15963094#msg15963094)<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">RACE:</span></strong> Salarian<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">OCCUPATION:</span></strong> Chemist<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">DATE:</span></strong> December 18th, 2174 CE<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">WEARING:</span></strong> A rather dingy, dark blue version of this (https://i2.wp.com/i286.photobucket.com/albums/ll98/dacaz/4th%20Quarter%202012/DSCN9339.jpg)<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">LOCATION:</span></strong> <strong>Enlil</strong>. Docking Bay Victor-12<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">CONTENT:</span></strong> Calmer now<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">TAG:</span></strong> Drack, Galeus, Open<br>&nbsp;<br><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div> <br>Zel had been simply standing in front of the shuttle, making sure not to drawn any unnecessary attention to herself. Outside of her lab, Zel was never fully comfortable, and being surrounded by mercs didn't exactly ease her concerns. And then Drack referred to her by name. Even got it right on the first try, which was not exactly something she was fully expecting from any of the mercs. <br><br>"That's right," Zel confirmed, her voice calm. "Jarv was one of the first ones to step up a defense when things went south as well. Did a lot more for keeping the peace than diplomacy, to be quite frank. Juko wasn't going to listen to reason, and Jarv was one of the first ones to realize it."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Mass Effect: Pandora {Prologue}</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>RobHumph</strong> on <strong>20-10-2021, 04:38:07</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(https://64.media.tumblr.com/cc9cf901ea0624deecb41c680c21c2f0/tumblr_p2el30QIkb1vv8bc4o1_500.png)</div> <br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">NAME:</span></strong> Jarv Valak (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=335654.msg15965415#msg15965415)<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">RACE:</span></strong> Batarian<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">OCCUPATION:</span></strong> Hired Security<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">DATE:</span></strong> December 18th, 2174 CE<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">WEARING:</span></strong> Battered old battle armour, still clean though<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">LOCATION:</span></strong> Enlil.&nbsp; Docking Bay Victor 12<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">CONTENT:</span></strong> Completely serious and not at all insulting talk<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">TAG:</span></strong> Ash, Luus<br>&nbsp;<br><br><br><hr><hr><br>Jarv groaned a little to himself as he assumed the position in the lineup of other mercs. At least he was near two of the better ones. Luus was alright, as was Ash, so long as she didn't go on a running with her mouth... which it seemed was exactly her plan. He crossed his arms and again raised a hairless brow as he listened to her rambling nonsense about a hypothetical origin story for the massive cyborg. As it went on it did manage to draw a chuckle from Jarv. "Nah..." He began offering his own version. "Self-aware toaster that's spent the last decade grafting itself a human body all in the name of avenging the vicious loss of toaster life during the First Contact War. Only when he found a turian they bribed him with the very best quality palaven bread and now he's here politely asking people on his side to line up with the average scum out of Omega... Or something. Also a good fifty/fifty he heard all this."<br><br>He glanced down with his four eyes and happily took one of the cigarettes, taking out his own lighter to light his and then hold it out for Ash to light her own against. Taking a drag of it, he thought on her question. "Depends really." He said with a shrug.&nbsp; "If the SPECTRE has a brain we'll be fine soon as Drack beats sense into his head. If not... Suppose we just try getting out of here. Wouldn't feel right though, leaving Doc alone with a SPECTRE and self aware toaster. At least Drack knows the asari, one good thing about that lot."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Mass Effect: Pandora {Prologue}</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Malrunar</strong> on <strong>21-10-2021, 02:39:42</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(https://i.imgur.com/XsPFh1t.jpg)</div> <br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">NAME:</span></strong> Samantha Adams (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=335654.msg15962167#msg15962167)<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">RACE:</span></strong> Human<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">OCCUPATION:</span></strong> Doctor / Xeno-biologist<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">DATE:</span></strong> December 18th, 2174 CE<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">WEARING:</span></strong> This, but probably little ripped and wrinkled by now. (https://i.imgur.com/SZyvDUP.jpg)<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">LOCATION:</span></strong> <strong>Enlil</strong>. Docking Bay Victor-12, pavilion<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">CONTENT:</span></strong> You’re an asshole.<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">TAG:</span></strong> Galeaus | OPEN<br>&nbsp;<br><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><br><br>Hearing the accusation that she was somehow responsible for this mess -or at least a suspect- prickled at her nerves and tested her self control. She was able to swallow her rebuttals and let the words hang in the air like a rank smell, something that might threaten to make her eyes water but never actually succeeded in it. She knew how to shrug these things off and keep her focus on things that were important. Galeaus was something of an ass, very much the turian authority that caused her to tense and actively fight off memories better left suppressed. Insult Sam and she’d shrug it off, but insult any of her friends… That wasn’t something she seemed capable of doing. Especially now, after all they’ve done.<br><br>The doctor took one step forward and poked a bruised, angry finger against the spectre’s chest armor. The fact that she had to crane her head up to look at his face was overlooked by the amount of barely contained rage she kept under wraps. She was practically shaking with it, and while her volume was raised for her, it barely surpassed a conversational tone.<br><br>“Drack is my friend, and he has been for some time. Insult me and my character all you like, Spectre, but show him a little more respect. In fact, you could extend the courtesy to the other mercenaries as well! That ‘trigger happy Batarian’ is named Jarv, and he’s the reason those civilians over there are still alive.” She was done with the finger poking, but not with making her actual point. Samantha dropped her hand from the turian’s chest and was forced to coil her fingers into a fist so she didn’t flail them about in her anger. “And Luus was rescuing civilians even before I hired him -but I don’t suppose any of that matters to you, does it? You prefer your narrative.”<br><br><em>This isn’t worth the energy, and you know crawling under his skin is going to hinder you more than help you.</em><br><br>She did. But slights and bitter words pointed towards the people who worked so damn hard to get this foothold was insulting. She couldn’t decide what it was saying the loudest; how poorly the spectre looked down on mercenaries as a whole, or how close to her breaking point she must have been for using Galeaus as an outlet. The smart thing, the thing she knew she needed to do was to close her mouth and walk away. But four days without sleep and a heavy reliance on chemicals to keep it that way did a number on her self control.<br><br>She wanted to defend Ashton next, explain to the spectre that the other human was an N7 -the turian equivalent to a Blackwatch soldier- but that felt too much like a ‘my father is bigger than your father’ sort of argument. She was tired and cranky, sure… but even that felt childish.<br><br>Reason won in the end, and Samantha stepped away from the spectre despite how badly she wanted to curse at him some more. There was work that needed to be done, stalling for the sake of a spitting contest wouldn’t help anyone. So with a few flicks of her fingers she pulled her omni-tool and the list of accounts she paid in full for the mercenaries she hired. Another flick of her hand and the orange glow of the screen winked out of existence. “You have no idea how bad things are, what they've had to go through. Don't you dare discount them as trash or belittle the like that again. I know my job, spectre, and I’ll get it done. But maybe once we’ve taken our showers you should follow suit; that authoritative bullshit you’re coated in stinks, and it certainly isn’t doing you any favors.”<br><br>Alright, so maybe her self control had a relapse in judgement for a little while. But Samantha had to admit it felt a little good, even if she was now inwardly scolding herself for the childishness of it all, moving away to join the others and to get the rest of this mess sorted.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Mass Effect: Pandora {Prologue}</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Rummy Tum Tum</strong> on <strong>02-11-2021, 01:53:09</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(https://pbs.twimg.com/media/EJI9C1cUcAA3cZa?format=jpg&amp;name=4096x4096)</div> <br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">NAME:</span></strong> Viella D'aix (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=335654.msg15965930#msg15965930)<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">RACE:</span></strong> Asari<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">OCCUPATION:</span></strong> Soldier<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">DATE:</span></strong> December 18th, 2174 CE<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">WEARING:</span></strong> Armor as shown.<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">LOCATION:</span></strong> Enlil. Docking Bay Victor-12, Pavilion<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">CONTENT:</span></strong> Family reunion.<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">TAG:</span></strong> Drack &amp; Zel<br>&nbsp;<br><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div> <br>Drack was his usual boisterous, cranky, protective self. That was good. Though, as he set her down she realized that, as always, it was not very good for her back. She had to see him more often. Maybe that would soften up his bear hugs.<br><br>"Do not fret, Dracky. If Gael finds an issue with allowing them in, I will speak in their name. I doubt that will need to come to pass, however. He is an exacting soldier, but not blindly so." She took some time to consider his earlier warnings, then addressed both him and Zel. "Your expertise in dealing with these hostiles--such as it is--will be very helpful. How vulnerable are they to your average means of attack?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Mass Effect: Pandora {Prologue}</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>thebobmaster</strong> on <strong>02-11-2021, 03:52:42</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<br><div class="floatleft">(https://i.redd.it/1q26kfsme4ry.png)</div> <br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">NAME:</span></strong> Zelgraviana "Zel" Belstris (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=335654.msg15963094#msg15963094)<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">RACE:</span></strong> Salarian<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">OCCUPATION:</span></strong> Chemist<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">DATE:</span></strong> December 18th, 2174 CE<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">WEARING:</span></strong> A rather dingy, dark blue version of this (https://i2.wp.com/i286.photobucket.com/albums/ll98/dacaz/4th%20Quarter%202012/DSCN9339.jpg)<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">LOCATION:</span></strong> <strong>Enlil</strong>. Docking Bay Victor-12<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">CONTENT:</span></strong> Awkwardness<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">TAG:</span></strong> Viella, Drack<br>&nbsp;<br><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div> <br>Once again, Zel found herself addressed, but this time, she felt there had been some confusion about what her role, exactly, was in this group. "Er, actually, I don't have a lot of expertise in dealing with these "hostiles", as you put it. I'm a scientist. I work in a lab. I can only attest to the fact that fire works on eliminating the threat. Works on a lot of threats, actually, but that's not the point."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Mass Effect: Pandora {Prologue}</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Wheresmycow</strong> on <strong>04-11-2021, 01:40:01</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(https://i.imgur.com/kOfnT10.png)</div><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">NAME:</span></strong> Jorgal Drack (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=335654.msg15962217#msg15962217)<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">RACE:</span></strong> Krogan<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">OCCUPATION:</span></strong> Scout/Assassin<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">DATE:</span></strong> 18th December 2174 CE<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">WEARING:</span></strong> Krogan Combat Armour<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">LOCATION:</span></strong> Enlil.&nbsp; Docking Bay Victor 12<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">CONTENT:</span></strong> Family Picnic<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">TAG:</span></strong> Galeaus, Sam, Viella<br><br><br><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><br>Drack gave Viella an amused grunt and a raised brow when she used his childhood name.<br>“Well, if you’re going to vouch for him, Vivi,” the krogan grumbled, “then I guess I’ll give him a shot.&nbsp; Though it looks like him and Sam aren’t exactly hitting it off.”<br>Being excited to see his older sister didn’t mean he stopped keeping a watchful eye over his charge.&nbsp; Couldn’t get too relaxed and comfortable in a combat zone, not when they still didn’t know what exactly was going on out there.<br>“Feel like I should separate the two of them until Sam’s got some food and sleep in her.&nbsp; I think the only person who’s come close to being up on their feet as much as me has been the kid.”<br>&nbsp;<br>“As for the enemy, the big problem is that they don’t stop movie when they’re supposed to,” Drack answered. &nbsp;“They aren’t any harder to hurt, it’s putting them down for good that’s the problem.&nbsp; I’ve seen turned humans keep on moving with injuries only a krogan could handle.”<br>That had been a nasty surprise during the first few hours of fighting and they had suffered quite a few unnecessary deaths before they adapted.<br>“No such thing as overkill.&nbsp; Exploding them to bits is good, complete dismemberment a close second.&nbsp; Anything less and they might still have enough left in them to make things difficult at the worst possible time.”<br>&nbsp;<br>He looked past the barricades, at the ruins of a city that once thrived with people just getting on with their lives.<br>“We need to find a cure sis.&nbsp; Not just because I’d like to get off this rock alive, but because only a cure guarantees an end to this.&nbsp; Even if they blast this place to bits, it could’ve have spread off planet before, or maybe it was made by someone and this was just a testing ground.&nbsp; Either way, I don’t want my girls to ever have to experience this.”
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Mass Effect: Pandora {Prologue}</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Rummy Tum Tum</strong> on <strong>04-11-2021, 13:34:17</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(https://cdn.weasyl.com/static/media/1b/a7/33/1ba733b406a74f55b4a190775935aa1f316f55e3577991f401613a009bbbce81.jpg)</div> <br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">NAME:</span></strong> Luus Remeril (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=335654.msg15962213#msg15962213)<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">RACE:</span></strong> Turian<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">OCCUPATION:</span></strong> Merc<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">DATE:</span></strong> December 18th, 2174 CE<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">WEARING:</span></strong> Heavy Turian armor.<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">LOCATION:</span></strong> Enlil. Docking Bay Victor-12, pavilion<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">CONTENT:</span></strong> Who you calling runt?<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">TAG:</span></strong> Jarv, Ash<br>&nbsp;<br><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div> <br>As the chatter went on around him, beginning to pick into the mechanized human on the spectre's team, Luus was uncharacteristically quiet. He watched this new spectre, particularly the way he looked at the mercs and refugees around him. The slightest twitch of a mandible could tell him that the soldier wasn't fond of the former, but the latter...well, the fact that he was boots on ground instead of bombs in sky meant that he had to care for them in the slightest.<br><br>He let out a short-lived sigh, bringing him back to the conversation around him. "Oh lay off the human," he said, a crinkle forming round his eye. "It's obvious he wants to be like the turians. Our exoskeletons are <em>pretty</em> handy."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Mass Effect: Pandora {Prologue}</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Rummy Tum Tum</strong> on <strong>04-11-2021, 13:52:53</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(https://pbs.twimg.com/media/EJI9C1cUcAA3cZa?format=jpg&amp;name=4096x4096)</div> <br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">NAME:</span></strong> Viella D'aix (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=335654.msg15965930#msg15965930)<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">RACE:</span></strong> Asari<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">OCCUPATION:</span></strong> Soldier<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">DATE:</span></strong> December 18th, 2174 CE<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">WEARING:</span></strong> Armor as shown.<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">LOCATION:</span></strong> Enlil. Docking Bay Victor-12, Pavilion<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">CONTENT:</span></strong> Family reunion.<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">TAG:</span></strong> Drack &amp; Zel<br>&nbsp;<br><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div> <br>"Apologies," she said to the salarian, giving a modest bow of her head. "Fire tends to be the bane of most life forms. I'm glad to hear it's the same case here. But, be assured, I don't discount the aid you've given this mission in your lab work, and the good you will continue to do."<br><br>As her brother spoke, she took mental note of his feelings toward his employer, the danger of the infected, and his emphatic desire for a cure. She nodded just as emphatically with the latter, the mere reference of her nieces more than enough signify the importance of this mission. "We will see to it that this threat doesn't leave the moon. That is a promise."<br><br>She took a sweeping glance at those around the docking bay, noting the hopeless and the hopeful, the lost and the suffering. "A cure would be ideal," she said, matter-of-factly, though if anyone could see past her hardened veneer and to her genuine concern, it was Drack. "First and foremost, we must all get on the same page. And, of course, dissidents must be dealt with." This was said casually, though it was clear that her preferred solution held finality to it. She smiled, a tiny and organized thing. "I seem to recall you calling out a number of them."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Mass Effect: Pandora {Prologue}</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Pink Professional</strong> on <strong>10-11-2021, 00:25:40</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(https://i.pinimg.com/564x/06/2a/7b/062a7b89e65aade4f736c10f2702987c.jpg)</div> <br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">NAME:</span></strong> Galeaus Centuri (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=335654.msg15962427#msg15962427)<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">RACE:</span></strong> Turian<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">OCCUPATION:</span></strong> Council Spectre<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">DATE:</span></strong> December 18th, 2174 CE<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">WEARING:</span></strong> Heavy Turian Armour, Orange-and-Black, without Helmet.<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">LOCATION:</span></strong> Enlil Hanger<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">CONTENT:</span></strong> No, <em>you're</em> an asshole!<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">TAG:</span></strong> Sam, Mischa.<br>&nbsp;<br><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><br>“My Narrative?” The brief finger pointing display from the human had Galeaus frustration flare up to a boiling point. “<strong><em>My</em></strong> Narrative? What kind of asinine bullc-” He stopped himself, turning instantly on his heel and turning his back to Sam, his bunched up knuckle tapping against his forehead as he fought to maintain control. What value was there in rising to the woman's jibes? She wanted to annoy him because her feelings were hurt? Because she thought he was rude? <br><br>He turned to face her, his face a bit more placid and military. The tiredness and the elevated emotions were replaced by a sort of duty-bound stoicism. Turians were drilled to work that stoic, regimented lifestyle from a young age, might as well use it. “Apologies, Doctor. Rushing and then cancelling a voluntary evacuation order of my non-combat crewmates to try and assist you – as well as nearly having my ship and crewmates biotically cooked – have made me wary of unknown Mercenaries.”<br><br>...Okay, maybe not too stoic.<br><br>“Please adjust yourself aboard the Corvidae and find yourself some quarters to relax in. You can come find me when you're ready. I'll go and survey the site.”<br><br>She was as eager to leave as he was, and just like that the oh-so-harmonious core of the Enlil rescue operation separated; barely avoiding a full on shouting match, or a full on wrestling match.<br><br>He glanced over his shoulder as she left, briefly seeing her sway away. Swaying with a swinging, swaying gait as she swung her...<br><br>He blinked, surprised at himself before he rubbed at his eyes. He was too tired for this shit.<br><br>He tapped his Omnitool on and messaged Mischa, since the unlucky bastard was playing doorman. <br><br><span style="font-family: courier;" class="bbc_font">'Let the Doc and her chosen mercs aboard. I was serious about getting them to shower before they stink up my goddamned ship, so make sure they know where the hell to go.</span>'<br><br>With that, Galeaus took a walk, hoping to spot any practical problems that he could actually solve, instead of lingering on the Doctor shaped problem he'd have to deal with later.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Mass Effect: Pandora {Prologue}</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Wheresmycow</strong> on <strong>10-11-2021, 01:39:38</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(https://i.imgur.com/kOfnT10.png)</div><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">NAME:</span></strong> Jorgal Drack (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=335654.msg15962217#msg15962217)<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">RACE:</span></strong> Krogan<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">OCCUPATION:</span></strong> Scout/Assassin<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">DATE:</span></strong> 18th December 2174 CE<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">WEARING:</span></strong> Krogan Combat Armour<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">LOCATION:</span></strong> Enlil.&nbsp; Docking Bay Victor 12<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">CONTENT:</span></strong> Family Picnic<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">TAG:</span></strong> Galeaus, Sam, Viella, Zel<br><br><br><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><br>"Those bunch of pyjaks?" Drack huffed.&nbsp; "Might as well be vermin.&nbsp; The only thing they'll be good for is lowering morale.&nbsp; Better to toss them into the brig until you can find a time to quietly toss them out of an airlock."<br>He followed his sister's gaze towards the non-combatants and snorted, "He's also going to have to turn on the charm real high if he plans on rallying this lot.&nbsp; It's a lot to expect a set of quads on non-Krogans, but those don't even have a strong enough backbone to dangle a pair.&nbsp; Sam and Zel here are the precious few that I can expect to do something if it became desperate enough, the rest will scream, run around, and get themselves killed."<br><br>Spotting Sam and Galeaus separate, he turned towards his sister.<br>"Well, looks like that's my cue to leave," he grunted.&nbsp; "Someone's got to make sure she doesn't fall down and hit her head on something sharp.&nbsp; Might even have to calm her down a bit so that the next meeting between my boss and your boss is smoother."<br>He chuckled, "Ancestors help us all if I have to be the adult in the room."<br><br>Drack swung an arm around Zel's shoulders.<br>"Come on, let's get you some food, a shower and then into bed.&nbsp; That cryo thing you did to Juko was good, think you can make any more of that?&nbsp; I'm in the market right now for explosives."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Mass Effect: Pandora {Prologue}</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>thebobmaster</strong> on <strong>10-11-2021, 05:59:46</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<br><div class="floatleft">(https://i.redd.it/1q26kfsme4ry.png)</div> <br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">NAME:</span></strong> Zelgraviana "Zel" Belstris (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=335654.msg15963094#msg15963094)<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">RACE:</span></strong> Salarian<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">OCCUPATION:</span></strong> Chemist<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">DATE:</span></strong> December 18th, 2174 CE<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">WEARING:</span></strong> A rather dingy, dark blue version of this (https://i2.wp.com/i286.photobucket.com/albums/ll98/dacaz/4th%20Quarter%202012/DSCN9339.jpg)<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">LOCATION:</span></strong> <strong>Enlil</strong>. Docking Bay Victor-12<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">CONTENT:</span></strong> Yay, friendliness!<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">TAG:</span></strong> Drack<br>&nbsp;<br><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div> <br>As Drack threw an arm around Zel's shoulders, she flinched slightly, more out of surprise than anything else. It had been a while since she'd actually had a conversation with anyone that wasn't herself, much less be touched physically. Not that she minded that much. It was preferable to many of the other experiences she'd been through in the last...well, longer than she'd like to recall.<br><br>"Unfortunately, trying to create a cryo blast chemically is much more difficult than fire. I can try to tinker with your omni-tool, but even that would be risky. I have to wear this glove for a reason. Cryo is cold, and cold is not good for any kind of flesh, even tough old krogan leather. Explosives are easy enough to create, provided there is a decent lab on this ship that we are about to board. As for the rest of your suggestions...shower, yes. Food, definitely. Sleep...that can wait until I find out the lab set up. I assume there is one, because anyone coming to investigate a biological event without a lab would be...I don't want to say dumb, but significantly less intelligent than your standard Spectre. And slightly less so than a politician. And maybe about on level as one of the zombies."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Mass Effect: Pandora {Prologue}</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Cold Heritage</strong> on <strong>11-11-2021, 05:11:45</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(https://i.imgur.com/ztzn712.jpg)</div> <br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">NAME:</span></strong> Mischa Harms (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=335654.msg15965217#msg15965217)<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">RACE:</span></strong> Human<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">OCCUPATION:</span></strong> Soldier<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">DATE:</span></strong> December 18th, 2174 CE<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">WEARING:</span></strong> Heavy armour<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">LOCATION:</span></strong> Docking Bay Victor 12<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">CONTENT:</span></strong> Mr. Roboto Says Go Fuck Yourself<br><strong><span style="font-family: arial black;" class="bbc_font">TAG:</span></strong> Gale, Dr. Sam &amp; Associated Mercenaries<br>&nbsp;<br><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><br>Indifference might suffice to describe Mischa's reaction to being described as a malfunctioning sex automaton. There was little to indicate that he had overhead the jibe tossed his way, or those that followed. They did not earn a rise from him, however, and his stoic and aloof detachment remained in place. All of its comfortable numbness remained in place despite the lack of engagement in combat, and Mischa enjoyed every moment in which he simply was not there.<br><br>The Spectre issued a new order, and Mischa acknowledged it. <strong>"Solid copy."</strong> <br><br>And so Mischa approached the line of mercenaries where the doctor had joined them. <strong>"Your attention. The Spectre has authorized Dr. Samantha Adams and those mercenaries she personally vouches for access to the Corvidae. You are authorized to use the shower facilities and mess hall at present. Consult your omnitools for directions."</strong> The human said in a flat and emotionless voice. He tapped his omni-tool a few times and provided the doctor and the mercenaries with a layout of the ship and a glowing pathway appeared leading to the shower facilities and another to the mess hall. <strong>"Those mercenaries who are not personally vouched for by the doctor are to remain here pending further review."</strong>
			</dd>
		</dl>
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