Achaix
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“Hm? Oh, Tenno Abra. It is good you’re here,” Cordia greeted the Oberon with no small amount of relief. “There are no cases on death’s door, as it were, but I could certainly use your help. Perhaps if you could see to Tenno Jinx, and then Tenno Dalimir? Jinx’s injuries are relatively minor, and a Renewal would speed her healing process immensely, enough to get her back on her feet right away. Dalimir… well, he’s certainly stubborn. He took a great deal of punishment from that stunt he pulled with the Colossus. He needs all the help he can get.”
She started to turn back towards Sahjey and Lancelot, but paused. “By the way, next time you see your friend Kate, please convey my gratitude for her help with Captain Temperance. I know he can be a bit of a handful, running off on his own and getting hurt.”
"Certainly, Healer." Abra bowed again before taking long strides to Jinx. Kate, helping someone who was literally tossing her around? Odd. Something must have happened for her to change gears like that.
That could wait. Now, he had a job to do. Tapping into the deep well within and around him, Abra called upon the Void, and rich blue power collected around his right hand. Holding it palm up above the Nyx's head, the energy flowed from between his fingers and into her Warframe, mending maladies in a moment and wreathing her in a verdant green.
Once Renewal had taken effect, he moved on to the Nekros' bed, cringing slightly at the sight. Abra had seen worse, but it never got any better. Using both hands this time, healing azure spread and took hold, and Dalimir too was enveloped in a thin layer of emerald light.
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By the time they reached the Armory, Sema had regained enough of her composure to start talking shop with Alaric.
“Perhaps the targeting systems gave a false-positive due to his proximity to the Colossus,” she mused as they came through the door. “No, no that couldn’t be right. Then we would be constantly mistaking one target in a hoard for another.”
“Maybe Temperance has a higher concentration of Technocyte than normal, and that threw your systems for a loop?” Alaric offered.
“Possible, but unlikely,” Sema replied. “Tenno biology isn’t that prone to deviation, at least not as I understand it. Look, let’s just get my ‘frame into
a diagnostics cradle. We can figure out what went wrong from there.”
Alaric agreed, and went to stand by the terminal while Sema stepped into the warframe-shaped alcove set into the wall. The clamps engaged, and the frame split open to allow its Tenno to step out. Sema emerged brushing black bangs streaked with Technocyte silver out of her eyes, and went to join Alaric at the console.
The silvery door fragmented and slid open, allowing Kate passage, unlike the last time. Her face still hurt... although that was mostly Arthur's fault and not the door's. Nevertheless, Kate stepped through with a sort of quiet reverence, unwilling to go through even more damage that day.
“Let’s see now,” the Range Master hummed as lines of Orokin text scrolled past the screen. “Alaric, check the blackbox for me? I’m going to run some tests on the targeting software and work from there.”
"Hey. Here's the goo gun, and though the Stalker fanboy hates me, it really came in handy in taking down that big sumb¡tch." It took a moment after her nervous chattering for Kate to realize that something else was happening. The Volt - maybe called Aralic - was doing something with the computer, and Sema was next to him, looking very worried. Kate's curiosity was piqued. "What's this about a blackbox?"
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Androgynous would work better IMO.
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A happy thread. May RNGesus bless everyone who left behind a kind comment with Forma and Bo Prime Ornaments.
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Man, what on Earth did Amazons do to deserve being called disgusting? That's a lovely strong lady, not some Frankenstein creation.
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He's weird looking, sure, but who cares? I love the circle of fire effect myself.
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Both are good movies!
Both are great movies!
Both are incredible movies!
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That seems like a waste of good PR, but alright.
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That presents an interesting aspect of Tenno: was it acceptable in Orokin times for Tenno to take part in social activities, or was it even more limited than the present?
There's a side to both: if they were public, that'd practically be propaganda: "Behold our great warriors" and all that, make the common folk adore the saviours...
But Tenno are, first and foremost, accidents, besides being built for war and little else. Their warping by the Void could be seen as something horrendous in Orokin society - and by "the twisted few" line in Excalibur's Codex,I think this may be the case.
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Probably when more than us three declare themselves officially - Drandko's gonna collaborate, as is Vipes (maybe) - but until then, it's the waiting game.
We could talk about the social, economic and political effects that the appearance of Tenno caused, if you're hungry for conversation.
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So, something being a joke immediately makes it not offensive, and everyone who took offense is a violent person?
Remember #itsjustaprankbro.
Screw this. I got into this RP because I thought it'd be a genuinely interesting opportunity to explore the world of Dark Sector, but I'll end up throttling someone in frustration if I have to RP with someone like you, Shane. I am leaving you and your sweet fantasies here in your candy-wonderland, and going over there to play with the reasonable kids who actually give a sh¡t about plot. Goodbye, and good luck.
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Jesus Christ.
Can you two not haggle over whose character ends up making out with Jean? It's pretty demeaning to forcibly turn someone's character into a romantic option.
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Shane, do you actively want your OC to be disliked? Walking away from a serious discussion about the mental health of a teammate isn't cool, it's petty and downright malicious.
And just how many times has Shane walked away from important conversations to have the last word? I'm counting... three, minimum, in a time frame of two hours, more or less.
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Is this guy for real? Ken thought as he entered the church just as Shane strutted off for the millionth time.
Grumbling to himself, he headed to a mostly intact bench and sat down. Shrugging off the heavy coat, unzipping the hoodie and removing his shoes, he quickly lied on his impromptu bed, using the coat as a pillow.
He glanced at the retreating kid before closing his eyes. Tomorrow. Tomorrow the kid would either learn, leave or be abandoned. Just had to wait for tomorrow.
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Oh. Well, in that case you can do whatever. I recommend Crystal Method, Aphex Twin, Solar Fields, Justice, and Zack Hemsey.
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There are much more offensive jokes out there, Drake. That said, ever since I heard the nickname "Bonedaddy", I pictured Nekros as Snoop Dogg.
Also, if the MP3 player is how you'll justify music - which is actually logical - keep in mind: no music or music from games after 2007. Ask yourself: does it make sense for my character to listen to music from videogames in this situation, or is it just to look cool?
And when said player runs out of battery, don't make Cyriann try to power it up. If he doesn't have absolute control over his lightning, then the player will just be rendered inoperable due to overcharging.
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I'm easily distracted by shinies nowadays, but my greatest fail was wasting my initial platinum in buying Salvage.
Salvage.
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Hey, if I move important files from my PC to a pendrive and then toss that pendrive into a horrible war against adaptive creatures that are overpowering an ancient empire, those files do run the risk of being deleted forever.
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I think this must be said for everyone to understand and keep in mind.
Each RPer is themselves. Their characters are not supposed to be themselves, but even if they are a self-insert, the character and the RPer must be recognized as two separate beings.
Stop metagaming, my fellows. Your OCs must not be wish-fulfillment gods that do whatever you want them to do. Your OCs should be people: their own opinions, strengths and weaknesses. Just because an RPer insulted you/your character doesn't mean you're justified in making your character kill or inconvenience theirs, or viceversa, unless it makes sense in the story.
Also, realism. Try to imagine how your character, as a person, would react to the situation at hand. Freak out? Try to stay calm? Don't make them summon a keyblade out of f*cking nowhere and instantly kill every enemy.
/frustratedrant
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Almost instantly, Ken was pointing at him with a sharp finger and a sharper look. "We are freaks that have no place in nature. Only a handful of us are actually sane, while the rest think we're superheroes for some reason."
He stepped closer to Hayden and extended his mandibles, revealing a gaping, nightmarish mouth filled with sharp teeth. "Is this the face," Ken hissed. "Of humanity's future? No."
Ken turned, his eyes - his one human aspect - cold and lifeless, and slowly walked back to the church. "I don't care if we share genetic code or any bullsh¡t like that. You're not my family."
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Ken shrugged. "It's a bad habit, but they help me relax, and I usually smoke on the days in which sh¡t really goes down."
His foot ground up the discarded cigarette some more to get rid of a few bright embers. "I'm thinking I should leave. Try my own luck out there."
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Here it be.
Name: Uriel
Race: Tenno
Warframe (If applicable): Rhino Prime
Loadout: Primarily Ankyros Prime, also carries around a Vectis Prime to work with in quiet missions. Follows the Way of Vazarin.
Appearance: An intimidatingly tall and broad dark-skinned Operator. Uri's cheekbones are covered in spiky, metallic scales, he shaves himself bald, and he has bright yellow tattoos that cross over his eyes, which are grey.
Warframe Appearance (If applicable): Thrak (not Arcane) Helmet. Decorated with Edo Prime armour, with the Gilded Champions badge on his right shoulder plate. Primary colour off-white, bright yellow markings and energy.
Personality/Bio & History: Despite his Warframe and general appearance, Uri is soft-spoken and exceedingly polite, though this is to be expected from a Tenno of his standing. He was subjected to an intense training regimen that tested each of the Seven Principles to the greatest degree ever since he was first given his frame - his "true body", he believes.
Passing intellectual and Focus tests with flying colours, Uri was quickly made a part of the Gilded Champions, despite only above-average physical prowess. One of the reasons for this was his unwavering loyalty to the Orokin Empire and subservient disposition, but despite the great respect Uriel has for his commanders, whispers of abuse, enslavement, and unbridled cruelty are slowly making him doubt his allegiance to the Emperors.
Despite everything, Uriel is willing to take a stand in the name of the weak, for which he fights Sentient with unending determination.
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Ken blinked, the cigarette in his hand almost entirely spent. He shook away the ash and took one drag before dropping and stepping on it. "Sorry. Zoned out for a while there."
He kept looking out at the wastes, hands in his pockets, nary a glance at Hayden.
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Rhino is great for early and midgame, and his ult gives you some handy crowd control. Oberon, on the other hand, has a direct heal ability, a solid 2, and his offensive attacks all proc radiation, which makes him a must for lategame defense.
Try both of them out, then do whatever.
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Definitely gonna join, but I have to point out that Dread, Despair and Hate don't exist in this time period. They were created by the Stalker after the Betrayal, not during the Old War for Orokin military use.
[Fanfiction] War's Effects (Mass Effect/warframe)
in Fan Zone
Posted
Widow shone, and an ancient space station basked in its light. There was but a single purpose behind it: to remain there for all time, enduring any and all events, serving as the heart and core for countless galactic civilizations. It had been built wisely, and only with the greatest materials. There were no buildings on the large surface area, but there was instead a system of simple locks and magnetic attachments that would allow construction of buildings and roads. The central, vital components were safe, hidden away and distributed across the petals. The Keepers would develop safely in their pods, the energy reactors would give power once accessed by a sufficiently advanced civilization, and the Archives would be made available as well. If the golden ones needed to, their genetic codes would grant them access to the station’s true purpose. Those who built it were wise: the ring and the five petals were so perfectly constructed that the entire structure could outlast them if need be, as unlikely as that scenario was.
The Nexus Rail was perfect.
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Chapter 5: Saving Saviors
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The first time Saren Arterius visited Zakera Ward, it looked like a mess. The centre of C-Sec was practically right next to the heart of the Citadel’s criminal underground, red sand was bought and snorted in well-lit alleys, and not a single business sold fried pirum. It was, in Saren’s relatively honest opinion, a chaotic hive of hypocrisy, drugs and sexually transmitted diseases that he never wanted to visit again.
Looking at it now, seeing how C-Sec officers patrolled regularly, holding a box filled with sweet treats, Saren was happy to say that Zakera had changed for the better. Criminals were still active - they would always be - but they no longer operated in large groups or in plain sight. Complete restructuring of the C-Sec paved the way for the downfall of many a corrupt officer and improved training regimens. Development of the gastronomic industry led to many alien meals becoming available for consumption, and these were often combined into strange but delightful fusions or sold in amino and levo versions. There was plenty of talk that the sudden improvement was made by the combined efforts of both the C-Sec and an Asari crime boss with aspirations of becoming a famous club owner, but Saren wouldn’t mind if it were true. Regardless of the method, the result was a positive one, and the method itself wasn’t so terrible either. The Turian could forgive a little moral ambiguity.
It’s still a mess, Saren thought, fingers tapping on the container in time with the tune his companion chirped, but it’s a damn fine mess.
Garrus finished his little song just as they walked into the C-Sec precinct.
“I’ll go talk with Pallin. Shouldn’t take too long, but if you need any entertainment, I think that Krogan,” He pointed at one of many bored cuff-linked aliens. “Would like some more company than he already has.”
Indeed, the red Krogan, sitting on a small cushion that only emphasized his girth and height, was accompanied by a C-Sec Enforcement officer and a Volus. The reptile’s bloodshot eyes narrowed as Saren walked near.
“Go away.” He grumbled, massaging his dermal plates. “Hangovers are a lot easier to deal with without you around.”
“It’s wonderful to see you too, Wrex.” Hiding his smile, Saren turned to one of the officers. “What did he do this time?”
“Would you prefer a short answer or a long one?” The Salarian policeman stifled a yawn. “Either way, I’d rather not talk. We’ve been chasing this fellow for most of yesterday and early morning, and it’s easier to pretend you’re awake when you aren’t talking with someone.”
“Typical C-Sec.” Wrex chuckled, but his hangover nullified any amusement.
The Volus in a dirty enviro suit took a shallow breath. "I don't think I'll ever-"
Inhalation. "- be able to sleep again, so I might as well tell you. The Krogan-"
Another breath. "- grabbed me by the head just as I was leaving a bar I was providing-"
A gasp. "- insurance for. He smelled like radioactive refuse."
"Ryncol is the second best thing Krogan are responsible for, right after saving your quads!" Wrex barked.
The Volus waddled a little farther from the mercenary. "He then said we had to -"
Yet another inhalation. "- find and exterminate all damn dirty clones. After that, it's a bit of a blur. There was-"
More breathing. "- a wild Kubrow involved. Did we go to a beastfighting ring after the bar?"
"No," Wrex rubbed his chin in contemplation. "We went to that after visiting that boxhead church."
"Oh yes." The Volus turned to Saren. "There were other things, but I understand enough to sue him-"
Another breath. "- to oblivion."
The Salarian officer yawned again, trying his hardest not to collapse out of exhaustion. "Not to worry sir, we'll make sure this Krogan pays for his crimes."
"I think we can make a... mutually beneficial deal." Saren began as he pulled a handful of credit chips from a pocket.
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"Why?"
Pallin was very still as he spoke, eyeridges firmly set and mandibles clenched tight. Immediately after he told the news, the room's temperature seemed to drop. Garrus had to admit, he felt a little intimidated. He cleared his throat.
"Saren Arterius isn't just a Spectre, sir. I owe him many things, including this job."
"Indeed you do, Vakarian." Pallin spoke deliberately.
The Executor stood and walked over to the window that displayed Zakera Ward, observing the tiny dots of shuttles and, further away, motes of light that shone in the fake sunlight. He looked back at Garrus. "I wasn't sure what to think after our dear Spectre announced - on live television, no less - his recommendation to C-Sec. The Councillors spoke to me personally: I was to accept you into C-Sec and then fire you discreetly. They don't like Spectres taking the initiative with these things."
"Then you were evaluated. Several new marksmanship records, better than the best. Some say you cheated, but I saw each and every shot. So I took a leaf from Saren's branch and disregarded the Council. It almost cost me my job, but I knew you were an officer the C-Sec needed. And I was right."
Pallin sat down, and his talons drummed on the desk. The tension from before diminished. "If you keep your performance up, the Council would be forced to admit that you're Spectre material. But if you leave now, well… you’d need one of the Council to vouch for you to enter C-Sec again, their opinion of you isn’t very high, and the rest speaks for itself.”
“I see, sir.”
“You don’t want to piss the Councillors any more than you already have, and I don’t want to lose one of my best officers.” Pallin picked up a datapad and tapped at it a few times as he spoke, his expression still unreadable. “So here’s what we are going to do. That Chora’s Den operation took a toll on you.”
The Turian grimaced, remembering how deep his cover was. Wearing skimpy clothing, dancing for sexually experimental patrons… physically, he was alright, but it would take a while before he ever felt clean again. “Sir? What does that have to do with -”
“I’m just saying it’s understandable if you want a little break. You have nine months of accumulated paid vacation time, after all.”
Garrus was at a loss once he connected the dots. “Are you sure?”
“I’ve heard Spectres are great travelling companions.” The Executor commented, his eyes fixed on the datapad. “Send me a card or two.”
Before leaving the room, Garrus bowed his head to Pallin. “Thank you for everything, sir.”
The door hissed open, and there was only silence once it shut. Silence, and a single, heavy sigh.
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Wrex’s handcuffs were off almost instantly.
“It’s just like those-“ The Volus took another in a neverending succession of obnoxiously loud breaths. “- boxheads say. Profit numbs the feeling… even if I feel like a Kubrow’s chew toy.”
“Relax already.” Wrex grumbled. “It’s not like I shoved your face into a shuttle’s engine.”
“I think you did.”
“No, I did not. Your face was half a mek away from the thing, minimum.”
"That's enough." Saren cut in. The Volus shrugged in dumbfounded desperation and waddled off, while the Salarian officer made a beeline for the nearest coffee machine.
"Don't think this makes us even." Wrex glared at Saren, and the Turian glared back.
"I don't." Saren answered curtly. "I just need a regenerating bullet sponge, and you happen to be nearby."
Wrex took a moment to regret his decisions in life before changing the subject to something less distressing. "Pay?"
The Spectre withdrew a pouch from another pocket and placed it in Wrex's expectant palm. Wrex reached inside and pulled out a small silvery disk with a glowing core. After some inspection, he bit it, the extreme resistance authenticating the currency.
"Genuine platinum..." Wrex grinned at the Orokin battery, but the smile faded as he counted. He glared at Saren again. "There's only fifty here. You trying to con me?"
"Initial payment." Saren said smoothly, crossing his arms. "You'll get the other two hundred once we're done."
Wrex pushed his misgivings to the back of his mind. It was good money, and though working with Spectres was always dangerous, Saren always paid on time. "Deal."
"What deal?" Garrus asked, having overheard their conversation. Seeing how the Krogan was no longer cuffed and had no entourage, he cast a questioning look at Saren, who nodded once. Outrage overcame Garrus. "Seriously? I leave you alone to talk with my boss, and you bribe officers and liberate criminals to pass the time?!"
"This criminal," Saren pointed at Wrex, who grunted, unimpressed. "Is an old friend of mine. We'll need him."
Garrus glared at Wrex, who glared back. "What were you arrested for? No, wait, let me make it easier for you: what weren't you arrested for?"
"I didn't kill anyone, though I'm starting to think that I should have shot a few pyjaks like you." Wrex said, waving goodbye at the Volus, who retreated at a greater speed.
Garrus watched the short alien make his escape, then turned to Wrex with a snarl. "You have issues, Krogan."
"We all do, Garrus." Saren called from the door. "We can talk about them after we visit the Emporium for supplies."
Though still fuming, Garrus kept his silence and followed Saren as the trio left the C-Sec building and walked back into the rivers that were Zakera's streets.
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Far away, a small shuttle took off, leaving behind the Council and its laws.
“What’s our destination?” Vasir asked, reclining on the seat next to the Corpus pilot. She paid no mind to the incredible sights they were flying past. Bright, cold lights provided illumination within the craft, showcasing her pale markings and eager smile.
“Our ships are too large to dock with the Citadel.” The boxhead’s words were made screeching and flanging by his helmet, then normalized again by the brand new translator module sitting in Vasir’s ear canal. She thought it was security overkill, but Corpus were infamously paranoid. “It is much safer to have them at a distance, past the Junk Belt.”
The Junk Belt was hell to navigate through - chunks of ancient debris drifted around the Citadel, some pieces smaller than an eye and others as big as a temple to Amathea. Garbage of any kind, ruined shuttles and ships, some of which still had life support. “You’re not afraid of pirates?”
The boxhead turned slightly to her, and Vasir could imagine him raising an eyebrow. “We may be visiting the Citadel, but we are Corpus. Our weakest trade vessels have firepower only second to your Destiny Ascension. Our warships dwarf even that.”
He looked back to their now visible target, an Obelisk-class ship, recognizable by its colossal hammerhead. He adjusted their course ever so slightly with mathematical precision. “I do not understand how the rest of the galaxy survived with such relatively small ships… Do let me know if you would like me to stop attempting to converse with you.”
“… I don’t mind.” She had seen VIs with more life to them than this boxhead. “As for our ship size, they stayed small due to costs and to be FTL-capable.”
“How quaint.”
Vasir began to fantasize crushing the pilot’s helmet into a shiny red marble.
A/N: The long wait is over. Quite a few months cruised on by, and to think I used to believe I could do weekly snippets. I’m truly sorry it’s taken so long; real life takes priority. But don’t worry, this fanfic will not be cancelled or abandoned.
“Mek” is a Krogan unit of measuring length. It’s approximately 1.37 m. No relation to the Grineer Hek.
As for references to Turian physiology and gastronomy… yes, most of them are made up. Mass Effect really dropped the ball when it came to alien culture, and the “Hat for each Race” concept is something I detest: human culture is incredibly varied, why isn’t alien too?
Turians don’t whistle, they chirp - the obvious reason behind this is to create a situation in which Saren and Garrus must romance a mockingbird to gain sensitive information regarding the Tenno (/sarcasm). And fried pirum… Have you ever had fried pears? I heard they’re great.