OR: Whispers of a New Age (Discord Based)

[Ash_of_Narmer]

@Rozencratz
Your bio has been reviewed by the clan and accepted. However, you need to move the story of your character's parents to a secondary document for backstory/lore.
Welcome to the Remnant Tenno!

[RenIsland]

Characters name: Infinati

Race: Corpus

Warframe: Vauban

Weapons: Main > Sobek. Secondary > Gammacor. Melee > Ack & Brunt (The sword and shield version.)

 Sobek, though mostly appears rugged and broken, is her most trusted weapon. Out of all the weapons she's taken apart, Sobek has been put back together four hundred thirty five times.

 The Gammacor she carries on her frame is more for welding or slicing though various metals. While it's an effective tool, it's ability to cut makes it an effective weapon.

 Ack & Brunt... The shield and sword (Which should be named different, because it's not the actual Ack & Brunt?) is her declaration of desperation. When she has no ammo left, or energy for her frame, she will always fall back to shielding her allies.

School Focus: Unariu

Bio:

 Infinati, being born to a corpus family of privileged industrialists, was at best a mediocre soldier. She never saw the glory of protecting the business secrets as a guard. Not even when the Orokin purchased her family to mass produce simple weapons for their warriors. She wasn't a fighter, nor was she a business woman like the rest of her family. No, she was a mechanic at heart. There was a beauty in shaped steel that she could never put her finger on. Stretched cords were like ribbons of lights to her, spiraling onwards to connect one piece of life to another. How could anyone see something made of smaller bits and not give it a second glance? That, unfortunately, wasn't for her to question. She was expected, as the oldest, to carry on the family tradition not to bend steel into works of art. They had workers to do such things.

 One night, after a falling out with her family about dishonoring the credits of their allies, she ran away to persue her dream. She knew there was people out there with ideas like hers. She wanted to learn every piece of technology she could and come back to her family, better then ever. She would prove them wrong for pressing her into a path she never wanted.

However she was the one to be proven wrong. The ship she took from her family broke down and she had no idea to fix it. It was beyond her young, rambunctious, mind. For months she drifted through space until eventually she was picked up by a grinneer scavenging ship. She never knew they debated on killing the young child, but it was deemed she could lift a hammer, so she could be put to work. So she was, breaking apart peices of her own ship they started to dismantle. Yet, she never felt like a captive. Life could have been worse for her. She was fed more then once if she did a good job, which she always did. Eventually she moved onto dismantling Grinneer technology. Days became weeks, weeks to months, months to years. As with all things, time gave way to affection from the crew members. They began teaching her their language, their culture, machines. She was, after some time of diligent work she never minded, treated with respect. Then everything she changed when the frames came. They tore through the ship like gods, gold and glittered. Her pseudo family, these scavengers that were just doing their job for their kingdom, were slaughtered, one by one. She tried so hard to stop them. Traps, explosions, everything they taught her, this corpus threw at the four frames.

The Orokin captured the young woman, after which they placed her on the ship Varida. She was no longer allowed to persue her love of engineering. Instead she was left to the void like so many others.

 Until nothing...

When she awoke, she was changed. Nothing made sense to her, she was lost. Her body was gone, replaced by the frame which she controlled.

She begins a search that takes nearly three hundred years to complete, looking for any sign of her family, both corpus and grinneer. She never finds either, but instead locateds the crashed ship of the grinner scavengers. It had been five centuries after the attack. With nothing left, she travels to find her real body, where ever it may be. a decade later, with no luck in sight, she finds a new frame and a message... The system needs to be fixed... She didn't know it then, but this would lead her to the Remnant.

[Ash_of_Narmer]

RenIsland Has withdrawn their application and no longer wishes to join the clan.

[PilotRica]

 

Operator Name: Senna Kairn

Nationality:  Tenno

Warframe(s): Mag, Valkyr, Octavia

Favored Weapons: Shotguns, dual pistols, Boar, Tenora, Dex Sybaris, Aklex

Focus School: Unairu

Bio: Born to two middle-class parents, a biologist and a Kubrow expert, she was on-board the Zariman Ten Zero when the Void Jump incident occurred, more than eager to perform necessary evils that others wouldn’t dare. During the Old War she was more than willing to put herself in harm’s way to get the job done.

Like many other Tenno, she went into cryostasis after the collapse, awakening in her Mag with no memories of her past or what she really was, she set out with her old mindset, help the people who need it, with no care for those who would harm them.

Her first major accomplishment was building Valkyr, the frame that would quickly become her most used. She hoards Kuva, taking most opportunities to spite the Worm Queen. She has slowly developed a red glow in her eyes, after consuming an amount of Kuva.

When she discovered the transmission from Lua she set off, her curiosity far too strong for her to ignore the message, and the lost Tenno also spurring her on.

[Ash_of_Narmer]

@PilotRica

After revision by the clan, your bio has been accepted! Welcome to the Orokin Remnant Tenno!

[Nor_Urzak]

Operator Name: Muro

Race: Human(Orokin)

Warframe: Hydroid | Atlas

Weapons: Primary: Zarr(created after losing original primary weapon before recall)|Secondary: Twin Grakatas(Extra firepower is always appreciated)| Melee: Fragor Prime(only original weapon he has left, carries some sentimental value for him)

 Focus School: Vazarin

Mission specialties: Rescue, Mobile defense, Combat Medic

Bio: The Zariman Ten-Zero incident is not a clear memory for Muro, as he was young even compared to most of the other children aboard the ship. Two distinct things come to mind, his father and the fear. He didn’t understand why the adults were attacking, nor did he understand the terrifying powers he and the rest of the children now possessed. His father had been a low-level mechanic onboard the vessel, assigned to life support systems.  Muro wasn’t quite old enough to grasp the situation at hand, but he deeply idolized his father, and the collected strength and dignity he conducted himself with, despite his meager station. Muro never saw him after the chaos began on the vessel. His father had left shortly after the alarms had sounded, as life support systems on board the vessel were his responsibility. He mostly hid from the adults after they had been corrupted, but was saved by the older children on multiple occasions when cornered. When the vessel was finally recovered, Muro was amazed by the sheer compassion that Margulis had for the Zariman children, despite the danger they posed to her. As a result, Muro adopted the Vazarin way, and set out to help his fellow Tenno as Margulis had done.

                During the process of transference therapy, Muro was found to have an exceptional aptitude for transference and was subsequently inducted as a Veiled Tenno, to be trained separately from the majority of Tenno. While not an accomplished assassin by any means, Muro often acted as an extra set of eyes for fellow Veiled Tenno by posing as a bodyguard for high-rank Orokin officials, usually those that the Veiled Tenno were tasked with keeping watch over/eliminating when necessary. What Muro lacked in stealth, however, he made up for as a defensive support for his team, using both his warframes’ abilities and trusty Fragor Prime to keep enemies off his squadmates.

Muro had joined the rest of the Veiled Tenno in the recall to Lua, shortly following the death of Margulis. It took every scrap of training and self-restraint he had to keep himself from enacting his rage upon the Orokin around him, though he did promise that one day he would seek vengeance for her death. After all this time in stasis, he may yet have his chance.

             To Muro, all Tenno, especially the Veiled Tenno, are his family, one that he will fight to the death to protect from any that would harm them, as they once protected him.

[Ash_of_Narmer]

@Nor_Urzak

After review by the rest of our members you have been accepted into the Remnant! Welcome to the fight Tenno.

[lynk]

aaaa

Edited December 15, 2022 by ly_nk

[IConscriptI]

Hello!
Hope I got this Right...
Looking forward to reading your reply! : )

Pic:
 

Spoiler

 

Operator’s Name: Rast of the disgraced house of Chan’Kek…
 

Race: Unknown (Until he finds his operator)

 

Warframe: Excalibur

Description:
 

Spoiler

There is no denying that the frame is of an older design and mark. From a first look, it looks excessively battle damaged and poorly maintained and by all right should be scrapped. Yet it more or less still performs the same function as an Excalibur should. With the mixture of dull grey’s and black’s coupled with a duller red rust, the frame looking like it might fall apart the next slash dash.
The ‘helmet’ is a dull white with seemingly pointed and menacing black eye’s yet it’s is the scars and scratches that make the look more menacing that it actually is.
Shielding is nothing of note and if anything predominately weaker than most warframes of his class.
The frame glows a fate dull red down the energy veins of the frame.

 

Weapons:  An obsolete Karka | A salvaged Lex | An old Paragon Sword

Weapon Details

Spoiler

Primary:

Rifle – Karak, Mark – Four, Pattern – Sierra

The rifle is an obsolete mark in normally seen in the black market’s or in Grinner training divisions. The Sierra Pattern is a common mark noted for its reliability when high-grade ammunition is used. The rifle is showing its age but is kept in working condition and is often in better shape than he is

.

Secondary:

Pistol – Lex, Mark – Custom, Pattern – N/A

The sidearm is a scrap weapon made out of parts of Lex’s mashed together. He picked up this ‘weapon’ from a Junker in a market… Rast had since regretted losing those hard earned credits… After a lot of work and few ‘essential’ parts where found. It is workable and surprisingly powerful enough to act as a last dich, despite it being if not terribly inaccurate and unreliable. Predominately used in close combat at point blank, over the use of his sword.

 

Melee:

Sword -- An old Paragon Sword

An Excalibur without a sword of some kind is not much of a Excalibur at all… Although calling this rusted and chipped, a sword or even a weapon is pushing it… Yet rarely Rast is not seen without it. Still it is remarkable durability and never truly breaks. Allowing to either bludgeon some poor soul and for the use of basic abilities that seem to travel through the sword. With all that said the fine rugged and jagged edge of the sword is surprisingly sharp… And if push came to shove it could be used as a weapon as it is immaculately balanced.
Apart from its clearly old age and mistreatment, the scarred gem on the hilt is dull red and lifeless almost pleading for liberation from its negligent master.

Cassified Strictly OOC

 

Spoiler

The Sword is not what it appears to be. It is not as hollow or lifeless as it’s Master sometimes wishes it to be. Akin to the infected weaponry but bound by metal and steel. It hungers subconsciously for Rast’s energy only to spend it on a killing blow.
Where by the sword uses the warframe’s energy to convert the damage dealt by the sword back into the warframe as allowing it to regenerate damaged to the warframe at a frightful speed. This is amalgamated in a twisted symphony of leaching life with an attack for as long as they is, an energy reserve to feed the sword and a willing master to feed it.
If griped with purpose and meaning the sword hilt would in turnwould entangle itself around the bearers hand the metal needles snaking across the bearer hand before plunging itself into the wrist in a painful unrelenting jab, effectively pugging itself into the warframe energy supply ready for its user to feed the energy it craves. Depending on the situation this process can be near instantaneous forRast as it is used to the warframe but is all ways painful, physically and mentally for how deep it borrows in piercing warframe skin, and bone alike to its very core…
For a new user it would snake cautiously mapping out the hand seeking its ‘entry point’. The main reason whyRast keeps the sword so close knowing how excruciatingly painful it can be for him, let alone someone that hasn't fully embraced the terrifying sensation before.
As for the weapon itself. It works primarily on instinct and is naturally curious. Although nothing inherently evil, only needing small amounts of energy before hibernating calm and content, the gem on the hilt dull and unalive. It can feel the rush of battle intertwined with its masters heart as blood race’s, almost subconsciously knowing and wanting to be used, just as eager as an kubrow on a leash, the gem burning brightly like an eye.

For Rast he uses the this technique sparingly if at all, preferring it to remain under the radar knowing how odd it is and how potent it can be and how it can attract unwanted attention…
As such he uses his sword rarely for attack and most common use of it is purely for defensive use, denying the sword to bond with his frame. Overall the sword and the Excalibur warframe are a fundamental linked to Rast past and most likely his future…
At the momentRast, in essence, keeps it’s sedated by rarely giving the sword the energy it needs. Ensuring it remains behaved. Only ever coming alive when Rast is truly alone flicking through his logs and he allows it to ‘play’ with his hand it’s gem eye dull red looking over its masters hand.

 

5

 

Focus School: Unknown to Rast for now. Although it is implied that he’s belongs to Uunairu. As the mountain, Never truly breaks, it only endures …  

Bio/History:

 

Spoiler

Rast was found by a corpus mining corps in the deep depths below the ice sheets of Pluto discarded and alone in more of a black casket then a cryopod. Unusually unlike most Tenno, this Excalibur was inactive, stranger still he was not recovered by the Tenno. Leaving him exposed and at the mercy of the corpus miners who quickly hired a mercenary house hold to deal with the problem.

 

Instead of initially destroying the casket as planned, the leader of house Chan’Kek.  Kry’zen curious as to why the Tenno hadn't come to intervene, decided to keep the casket and its occupant as payment in the hopes of somehow using utilising a Tenno for his house, in the hopes of giving him an advantage over the other mercenary houses. 

 

Securing the casket their returned home to the mountains of Bow’rog five, Pluto where they proceeded to try at and manipulate the still sleeping Warframe. As a house mainly devoted to profiteering in war and not science, they inevitably failed rather miserably to even wake the warframe. Only when they were about to give up did a mysterious ally who apparently had been watching from afar and had great interest in this Warframe. She was an elegant rogue in a yellow black Nyx whom only announced herself as ‘Dream’. Whom promised a Tenno that was loyal and trustworthy and in return she would expect certain favours involving the Excalibur… Out of options the Kry’zen reluctantly agreed.

 

 

The powerful Rogue Nyx started her work almost instantly… Days went into weeks as she toyed with the Excalibur rewriting his personality, his feelings, nothing was left untouched, and almost everything he would have known was buried under, kept under lock and key in the forgotten depths of the Excalibur's memories. And the Nyx revelled in it, giving cause to wonder what she was really up to.

 

 

But she completed her work and left without a word. She fulfilled her side of the bargain to the dot and so came about ‘Rast’ a name given to him by Kry’zen. Over the course of the first few months, he was integrated and taught the ways of the house Chan’Kek … Picking up many of their traits… Quickly became known as a rather professional, reliable and trustworthy mercenary even by the high house standards but he was most importantly loyal. Exactly what the Nyx had promised.

 

 

But they were problems with him… Firstly his Warframe abilities were exceptions limited and his sword that he used was odder still by Tenno standards. This forced him to rely on a less Tenno approach to fighting relying on his mercenary house training over natural ability. Secondly was that he dreamed… In his dreams, that whereas vicious as they were confusing he envisioned war in all its horror and glory without an end. Past memories of his life that he couldn’t remember scattered and jumbled… Quite quintessential that the Nyx ‘Dream’ was the only one whom could help the Excalibur out of his pain and frequently visited Rast, while Kry’zen repaid certain promised favours…

 

 

Still life went on for Rast and he enjoyed his place inside the House Chan’Kek. He enjoyed being nobler gentleman lifestyle and how quaint it was, along with the ‘in the trenches’ camaraderie with his fellow merc’s in the dirt and mud. He even enjoyed the talks with the Kry’zen personal Cephalon Elexis. That after a bit of time and a few heated arguments, she helped him integrate, despite how largely independent she was and was not helped in how often Kry’zen spoilt the Cephalon like she was his own daughter. The two got alone being the outsiders as such. Which was better than most of the mercenaries in the house… That disliked Elexis, blaming the Cephalon’s huge personality matrix and subroutine, that some of the mercenaries would say was a failure in its programming from how old it was… Although most that where smart enough kept they discontent and the word ‘old’ quiet from Elexis. Those that didn't soon found they kit or the toilet suddenly malfunctioning…  

 

 

Rast had everything here. Having little interest in the Tenno outside or of the Lotus both of which didn't come when he was in need… Only the house that had given him everything mattered to Rast. Yet this was not to last…  

 

 

The small yet proud house Chan’Kek,  with a long history of professional rule-bound mercenaries that looked after they own. Had no shortage of enemies and competition was fierce in the mercenary houses of Pluto, whom looked for any excuse… An excuse they got from the house Chan’Kek was doing a favour… An ultimately fatal gesture... Before the  occupants of Bow’rog five new it… One of the older and much larger Guilds that had multiple houses within and long-time rivals of house Chan’Kek, Attacked… The old house had been found wanting in their recent excursion having been tricked into attacking a corpus installation, a Moa facility.

 

Accidental as it was, the damage was none the less the same especially with a Warframe at the tip. The Guild that the factory belonged to judged that the house was to be made an example for crossing the line…

 

The siege was long and devastating lasting for weeks… Eventually one by one the defenders fell… For Rast something clicked in his mind as injuries where sustained and as the destruction of his home mirrored that of the old war … It granted him new techniques that he wouldn’t have thought possible as he start to act and move more as a Tenno should, both he and Elexis endured… Day after day… Every bit of damage the Excalibur took he regained in energy before unleashing in his sword tip red in channelled energy... Using every dirty technique he could. Till only a Warframe a handful of the house and a distraught Cephalon remained…  The proud house of Chan’Kek, held they home…

 

 

Grown tired of the game and of the profit being lost the rival house… Laid charges under the mountain side… The avalanche was slow but dooming … As the whole side of the mountain moved…  Before even Rast could act his home started to collapsed all around him… He collected the distraught Elexis its advanced personality that the Cephalon prided itself on, now worked very much against itself as everything it knew was crumbling away… If it was not for Rast’s unnaturally fast reactions and old combat memories that had unlocked a portion of his hidden potential. He doubted he or the Cephalon would have made it to the hangar…

 

 

The house destroyed in an avalanche of carnage. The two escaped barely on an old Leset that the Cephalon held a particular interest in… Rast had lost everything yet something in his memory told him that this wasn't the first time and he bared the pain better than one could expect. Out of the two survivors it was Elexis whom was most distressed, whom had integrated into the house for generations and having all that taken away in such short time nearly broke the Cephalon. It only calmed when Rast intervened doing his best to soothe the Cephalon talking to it more as a person, then a machine. The Cephalon's programing twisted and sparked violently as the Cephalon made new programming and subroutine to coordinate with its programmed pain… New subroutines built on top of its already complicated matrix that prioritised that Rast the last of the house would remain safe and by its side, by any means necessary…

Still for Rast they was one other ‘ally’ he felt he could rely on… The Nyx ‘Dream’ whom sympathised with his blight taking both him and the Cephalon Elexis into her care and into her business of an information broker. Yet there was something underneath all that something that Dream kept to herself something that Rast ignored confident that he ‘knew’ her, someone that offered work and the ability to help him in his dreams… Yet for Elexis who never trusted the Nyx to start with, found it all of this to quintessential, that the Nyx was willing and eager to ‘help’ all the sudden… Yet her own concerns where quieted as the Nyx also offered to help the Cephalon with a particular ‘side project’… 
 

And so the two set off their venture into the void… Rast as a disgraced freelancer whom worked for considerable less pay then he was used to, but always maintained the high standards of his house hold, even if they would have been detrimental. And Elexis a quirky Cephalon with a huge personality matrix, seemingly returned to its normal self and who still demand to be spoiled at every occasion. Yet remained exceptionally protective of its now designated operator although quite successfully hides those protocols and plans…

 

The two most recent travels has taken them to the Moon to investigate a particular transmission that the Nyx ‘Dream’ was particularly interested in… 

30

 

Goals:

 

Spoiler

Rast

1.       Find out who betrayed the house and why…

2.       Find his operator, to find out more about his past and makes sense of his dreams.

3.       Matane his house beliefs

4.       Look after Elexis keep the Cephalon out of trouble

5.       Profit…

 

Elexis

1.       Ensure the safety of Rast.

2.       Ensure that no one or thing gets in between itself and Rast.

3.       Help Rast in his dreams.

4.       Obtain an asset… To help with Rast Dreams.

5.       Ensure its own survival…

6.       Make sure that Rast is compelled to buys the Cephalon nice things…

 

The Nyx In Yellow and Black… (Dream)

1.       Maintaining and expanding her information network.

2.       The Orokin Remnant…

3.       Rast…

      
Thanks for reading!
Hope to get rping with you soon!

Connie

Edited May 13, 2018 by IConscriptI

[Ash_of_Narmer]

@IConscriptI

Your application has been reviewed and accepted! Welcome back Tenno!

[Flynxa]

Operator Name: Kopi Tacosa

Nationality: Orokin

Warframe(s): Khora, though she has a damaged Ember Prime in storage.

Favored Weapons: She tends to prefer light-medium weapons but isn't opposed to using a heavy shotgun if the situation calls for it.

If she had to pick three: Braton Prime, Sicarus Prime, and her Zaw; a large scythe.

Focus School: Currently unknown (Tbh I really fell behind on focus farming when it first came out so I am getting on that now, really having trouble picking one lol)

Bio: 

Spoiler

Emptiness. A void. Large blocks of time missing, gone. Her memory affected similarly to most Tenno, though bits here and there she could recall. Animals - something her parents had a lot of. The war. She can't remember it much, but it's what took her family away from her. It was all a blur when she awoke in her first frame - an ancient Ember relic.Trapped in a pod, isolated. Alone. It was cold.

Having awakened on Pluto - she was surrounded by Corpus. There were days of constant fighting to survive until there was rescue! She was guided by a familiar voice - the Lotus, a voice she knew -  to a group of Tenno who happened to be nearby. They took in the lone Tenno into their ranks. Helping her not only find her footing in this changed world, but also assisting Kopi in regaining her memories.Her Orbiter slowly became more populated with more than just herself - a variety of plant and animal life began to fill the ship's hull. Two animals in particular; a Raska Kubrow and a Adarza Kavat, both reminding her of her past and of her parents. Her old home. Though all good things must come to an end. There was infighting within the clan - some thought the Tenno could be more than just warriors. Others were more blood-thirsty. Backstabbing happened. Blatant attacks on one another while one of the leaders tried to rally everyone together. But it wasn't enough. When the group disbanded, Kopi followed after a scientist in their ranks, one of the original three leaders. Working as her assistant, life didn't quite pan out too well. The formerly caring woman turned abusive towards her assistant. Started doing experiments. Sending her on riskier runs for the importance of science.

But one day..Kopi had returned to an empty base, her mentor nowhere to be found. Alone once more, she turned to working solo; eventually even turning in her own, damaged frame for something newer. More fitting to her own personality; The Khora. Working solo runs out of Cetus, she eventually got word of a signal emanating from Lua. A signal no Tenno has ever come from, apparently. She chose to ignore it for a few days until something got the better of her. Something called curiosity. You know what they say; Curiosity killed the cat but satisfaction brought it back.

 

[Ash_of_Narmer]

5 hours ago, Flynxa said:

Operator Name: Kopi Tacosa

Nationality: Orokin

Warframe(s): Khora, though she has a damaged Ember Prime in storage.

Favored Weapons: She tends to prefer light-medium weapons but isn't opposed to using a heavy shotgun if the situation calls for it.

If she had to pick three: Braton Prime, Sicarus Prime, and her Zaw; a large scythe.

Focus School: Currently unknown (Tbh I really fell behind on focus farming when it first came out so I am getting on that now, really having trouble picking one lol)

Bio: 

  Hide contents

Emptiness. A void. Large blocks of time missing, gone. Her memory affected similarly to most Tenno, though bits here and there she could recall. Animals - something her parents had a lot of. The war. She can't remember it much, but it's what took her family away from her. It was all a blur when she awoke in her first frame - an ancient Ember relic.Trapped in a pod, isolated. Alone. It was cold.

Having awakened on Pluto - she was surrounded by Corpus. There were days of constant fighting to survive until there was rescue! She was guided by a familiar voice - the Lotus, a voice she knew -  to a group of Tenno who happened to be nearby. They took in the lone Tenno into their ranks. Helping her not only find her footing in this changed world, but also assisting Kopi in regaining her memories.Her Orbiter slowly became more populated with more than just herself - a variety of plant and animal life began to fill the ship's hull. Two animals in particular; a Raska Kubrow and a Adarza Kavat, both reminding her of her past and of her parents. Her old home. Though all good things must come to an end. There was infighting within the clan - some thought the Tenno could be more than just warriors. Others were more blood-thirsty. Backstabbing happened. Blatant attacks on one another while one of the leaders tried to rally everyone together. But it wasn't enough. When the group disbanded, Kopi followed after a scientist in their ranks, one of the original three leaders. Working as her assistant, life didn't quite pan out too well. The formerly caring woman turned abusive towards her assistant. Started doing experiments. Sending her on riskier runs for the importance of science.

But one day..Kopi had returned to an empty base, her mentor nowhere to be found. Alone once more, she turned to working solo; eventually even turning in her own, damaged frame for something newer. More fitting to her own personality; The Khora. Working solo runs out of Cetus, she eventually got word of a signal emanating from Lua. A signal no Tenno has ever come from, apparently. She chose to ignore it for a few days until something got the better of her. Something called curiosity. You know what they say; Curiosity killed the cat but satisfaction brought it back.

 

Welcome to the Orokin Remnant Tenno! We look forward to meeting you!

 

[Ember16]

Operator: Calia Aloysus

Race: Corpus

Warframe: 

Valkyr Prime - In the final days of the Old Orokin, Valkyr Frames were often leased on battle-lines faltering against the Infestation, not because they would turn the tide, but because they would kill anything that moved: friend and foe alike.

Weapons: 

Soma Prime 
“If you can't hit a foe with a hundred bullets then there is nothing that I can teach you”’ -Dax Instructor 

-- 

Bronco Prime 
“13 whereabouts unknown, 265 killed by Enemy, 45 killed by friendlies, 10 killed by Bronco misfire…” -Casualty Reports, Battle of Tagashou 

--

Nikana Prime
“For your success you earn this sword, for your failure you will fall on it.” -Orokin Saying

 

Focus: 

Unairu

 

Bio:

‘Born’ (if one can call it such in those days) to a well-off corpus family on mars, Calia had a childhood of comparative ease before she was whisked away by Dax warriors. Her memories of the time were of bright blue skies, a light wind and perfect sunrises that her father told her were almost exactly like those their ancestors had known on Old Er.

Not that it particularly mattered, all of that was gone soon enough.

She, like so many other children, was taken from her parents and turned into a twisted monster to fight even worse monsters. She was stripped of herself, body, soul, mind, to become an unquestioning soldier. She was tempered into steel and unleashed in a blinding blaze of fury.

And she was good at what she did. She had a purpose. She strove to receive her masters’ praises and, when that failed, she consoled herself in endless slaughter. She knew no fear. But, in truth, she didn't know much of anything. Why were they fighting? Who were they fighting? She didn't know. She didn't care.

Her masters died, as all masters inevitably do. She swaddled herself in their bloody clothes and cried herself to a deep, long sleep…

When she awoke, she was in a different time, in a different place. By some stroke of the void she was rescued from a quick death. But she was, for the first time in a long while, very, very afraid.

---

Spoiler

 

When Calia awoke, she did not recall much. Her mind was all in bits and pieces, like slivers of glass tossed about reflecting pool, each a single spark of some greater light.

Silver warriors and golden gods. Rifle buts prodded weeping mothers. Herds of children, all so lost and confused, being guided into those dark ships.

She remembered the red lightning. She remembered the upside down world where everything was stretched like putty. She remembered a twisted darkness and the sick laughter of the older boys as they cut out their eyelids to see better in the not-light.

Or maybe that was all just in her imagination.

She was a metal warrior. She had no doubts, only a purpose. Her sword fell through steel and flesh alike. The blood did not bother her. The screams for mercy did not bother her. Nothing could. She was fearless. She was a faithful servant, the loyal, mute hound. She was victorious.

Her beautiful masters lay dead or dying. She cradled their corpses and wept.

She was nothing.

---

“-as you can tell, it is quite harmless… while asleep anyways.”

Calia blinked. The voice was muffled by both the thick, fuzzy glass above her and a heavy foreign accent. Each letter flowed into the next, forming an unbroken stream of syllables like water over stones. She thought it to be quite beautiful.

A second speaker’s following words were by no means as eloquent.

“Yough. Whant?”

There was a pause, then the liquid-spoken individual inquired -seemingly just as confused as to the intonation’s meaning as Calia herself. “Excuse me?”

“Yhough. Whant?” The second repeated, agitation evident as it amended in that same gravelly tone. “Yhouh. Want. For?”

Calia blinked, she realized that she could see. She was able to make out the shadow of a man above. Her thoughts were slow, though she could have sworn she recognized his dress, even through the faded pane between them. 

“I am afraid this doesn't come cheap, my friends,” the first figure replied sauvly. “a warframe and tenno, and so perfectly preserved at that…”

“Yhes. Yhes. Whant?” the second interjected impatiently.

The man tisked.

“Fifteen million credits.”

There were several exclamations of derision at this, making Calia aware of a small, shifting chorus of other coughing voices just beyond the two.

“Nho. Nho Fifteen-Millhon-Credit.” another pebbled voice rang out.

The man did not seem particularly disappointed.

“Very well, though I am afraid my offer is non negotiable… so, if you have anything else-”

But the second was not done. With evident malice it said.

“Nho. Nho Fifteen-Millhon-Credit. Nho Credit. We Grineer. We Can-Will Take Tennho.”

The man paused. His next words were soft, slow and careful, though betrayed no fear towards -what even Calia could observe, befuddled though she was, as- the evident threat.

“I would not deem that advisable.”

“Why nhot?” The second figure shot back.

Calia did recognize those robes! Blue on silver, flowing to the knees, could he be... a corpus? Calia smiled at the word. She wasn't quite sure what that term meant, but it elicited in her a deep sense of belonging, of family. Was the war over? Was she going home like she had been promised?

“Because that is an airlock” The man gestured to a vague smudge on the periphery of her vision. “And if you open fire, not only am I going to release it, but any of you wretches which escape will have to explain the affair to my dozen corporate interrogators waiting aboard this ship.” She could hear the cruel smile in his voice. “Trust me, they are well payed to make sure my vengeance from the Void is payed out in full.”

Calia had not noticed, but the second individual had brought up a large, bulbous weapon while he had spoken, which now drooped quickly towards a misshapen knee. Something about the mannerism of the action seemed to give off an aura of disappointment leading quickly into anger.

"Swa Grik Maks!" It cursed in some gibberish language. “Fhine. We. Pay.”

“Good.” The man opened his arms in a gesture of mock faith. “I thought you would. You know, you Grineer might be stupid, but at least-”

He was cut off once more, though this time it was not by a lashing voice, but by a sharp, deafening alarm. His posture fell.

“Whhat. That?” Asked the thing- the ‘Grineer,’ a word that felt so familiar on her lips, in a rare tone of innocence.

The figure merely stood stunned for a moment. Slowly his pink lips opened, then sprayed a thin spittle of rage. “You void-damned bafoons!” He cried. “You were followed- you lead them right to us!”

A realization seemed to dawn on the second. It turned and quickly began ordering its men “You, Goruk- Tash-la- Tesch. Gaurd Tennho and Corpus-Man. Rest- Spera ku, hum klem!”

“Look, if you want to fight that is your prerogative, but me and my merchandise are not staying here!”

THUNK! THUNK!

The bulbous weapon had been raised again, now firing two quick rounds that tore the protesting corpus apart at the waist. His blood and viscera splattered the glass. Calia retreated against opposite wall of her pod in horror. Her mouth was open, eyes wide. She let out a small gag.

“Chome! Kill!” The grineer motioned to its subordinates and soon all but a couple lonesome shadows had fled the room. She could still hear gunfire.

---

By the seven principles. She sagged against the pod’s padded backing. She could feel bile filling up in her mouth. She wanted to vomit, but there was nothing to throw up. Instead she dry heaved, tears filling her eyes, fists clenched and stomach rolling.

She heard something snuffling against the glass. She tried to ignore it. She tried to ignore everything. She wanted to go back to sleep. Why was she awake? She was not made of iron- she was- she was-

She looked down at her body. A flexible suit hugged her skin, neurodes poking here and there to expose a mesh of wiring and, beneath that… She peeled away a glove, staring slack jawed at the fleshy hand beneath.

She screamed.

She struggled and pushed at the door to her cryopod. The last vestiges of her dreaming fell away into a stark, horrible reality. She remembered being made of gold and silver and blades with thin gutters for the blood. She remembered killing and being killed, over and over again.

In a sudden gust of strength, the portal flipped open and she sprawled out onto a grime riddled floor. Where were the perfect white tiles? Where were the men with needles and soft voices to put her back to rest? She needed to find her metal body. She needed to be inside it, to be safe, to be brave again.

She looked up. Something was staring at her with a puzzled expression. It had a powerful jaw and a full set of teeth, including two, long, body-tearing tusks. It was almost like a Kubrow, but in place of thick fur there were only tough scales and small-set eyes. Was this her body? Was this her warrior?

She tried to Transfer with it. There was a sharp pain in the back of her skull. Her body melted and poured into the orifices of the beast. She- it was in agony. It reeled back, eyes wide. She was riding it- she was in it. She could see in its small, narrow vision three others. They were like men- but in a warbled reflection. They were sick caricatures- just like their hound; like her.

The muscles and thoughts of this thing were all wrong. It wasn't made for Transference, it wasn't her smooth metal. It bucked against her reins and she- afraid she would fall- kicked it forward at the nearest of the man-shaped-amalgamations.

She fell on it roaring, all muscle and tufts and teeth. She could feel its strained skin beneath her. She ripped at it. This felt right. She could hear it shrieking, and she didn't care, she continued to dig into its chest, tearing out cervos and guts alike with equal ferocity. And when it finally stopped moving she turned her attentions to the others.

They had both raised those blunt pistols.She didn't recognize them, but no matter. She had been shot a hundred thousand times and-

THUNK! THUNK!

Pain unlike she had ever experienced. Large bullets of lead burrowed under her dermal plates, causing blood and her essence to leak out like some sickly silver, coalescing light. She pushed through it and threw her dying weight at the attackers. She killed one quickly, ripped out his jugular. The other she staggered towards and finally collapsed, weak body giving out.
She pulled herself from the beast’s mind. It was hard. The flesh was all sticky and part of her leg got caught in the chest cavity as she reformed. Maybe this last figure would fair better? She had seen all their metal parts. Maybe that was her body to be.

She never got the chance to try. Another shot pierced her side. Then another. Then another. Silver light filled her vision. So many embers trailed her wounds. She lanced a beam of the stuff towards the figure, but it missed, melting and deforming the wall just behind it.

As she fell, dying again, the room’s far door opened with a hiss. The ship had gone silent she suddenly noticed. And in strode a golden warrior of old.

She smiled, then fell fast asleep.

---

 

 

[Ash_of_Narmer]

39 minutes ago, Ember16 said:

Operator: Calia Aloysus

Race: Corpus

Warframe: 

Valkyr Prime - In the final days of the Old Orokin, Valkyr Frames were often leased on battle-lines faltering against the Infestation, not because they would turn the tide, but because they would kill anything that moved: friend and foe alike.

Weapons: 

Soma Prime 
“If you can't hit a foe with a hundred bullets then there is nothing that I can teach you”’ -Dax Instructor 

-- 

Bronco Prime 
“13 whereabouts unknown, 265 killed by Enemy, 45 killed by friendlies, 10 killed by Bronco misfire…” -Casualty Reports, Battle of Tagashou 

--

Nikana Prime
“For your success you earn this sword, for your failure you will fall on it.” -Orokin Saying

 

Focus: 

Unairu

 

Bio:

‘Born’ (if one can call it such in those days) to a well-off corpus family on mars, Calia had a childhood of comparative ease before she was whisked away by Dax warriors. Her memories of the time were of bright blue skies, a light wind and perfect sunrises that her father told her were almost exactly like those their ancestors had known on Old Er.

Not that it particularly mattered, all of that was gone soon enough.

She, like so many other children, was taken from her parents and turned into a twisted monster to fight even worse monsters. She was stripped of herself, body, soul, mind, to become an unquestioning soldier. She was tempered into steel and unleashed in a blinding blaze of fury.

And she was good at what she did. She had a purpose. She strove to receive her masters’ praises and, when that failed, she consoled herself in endless slaughter. She knew no fear. But, in truth, she didn't know much of anything. Why were they fighting? Who were they fighting? She didn't know. She didn't care.

Her masters died, as all masters inevitably do. She swaddled herself in their bloody clothes and cried herself to a deep, long sleep…

When she awoke, she was in a different time, in a different place. By some stroke of the void she was rescued from a quick death. But she was, for the first time in a long while, very, very afraid.

---

  Hide contents

 

When Calia awoke, she did not recall much. Her mind was all in bits and pieces, like slivers of glass tossed about reflecting pool, each a single spark of some greater light.

Silver warriors and golden gods. Rifle buts prodded weeping mothers. Herds of children, all so lost and confused, being guided into those dark ships.

She remembered the red lightning. She remembered the upside down world where everything was stretched like putty. She remembered a twisted darkness and the sick laughter of the older boys as they cut out their eyelids to see better in the not-light.

Or maybe that was all just in her imagination.

She was a metal warrior. She had no doubts, only a purpose. Her sword fell through steel and flesh alike. The blood did not bother her. The screams for mercy did not bother her. Nothing could. She was fearless. She was a faithful servant, the loyal, mute hound. She was victorious.

Her beautiful masters lay dead or dying. She cradled their corpses and wept.

She was nothing.

---

“-as you can tell, it is quite harmless… while asleep anyways.”

Calia blinked. The voice was muffled by both the thick, fuzzy glass above her and a heavy foreign accent. Each letter flowed into the next, forming an unbroken stream of syllables like water over stones. She thought it to be quite beautiful.

A second speaker’s following words were by no means as eloquent.

“Yough. Whant?”

There was a pause, then the liquid-spoken individual inquired -seemingly just as confused as to the intonation’s meaning as Calia herself. “Excuse me?”

“Yhough. Whant?” The second repeated, agitation evident as it amended in that same gravelly tone. “Yhouh. Want. For?”

Calia blinked, she realized that she could see. She was able to make out the shadow of a man above. Her thoughts were slow, though she could have sworn she recognized his dress, even through the faded pane between them. 

“I am afraid this doesn't come cheap, my friends,” the first figure replied sauvly. “a warframe and tenno, and so perfectly preserved at that…”

“Yhes. Yhes. Whant?” the second interjected impatiently.

The man tisked.

“Fifteen million credits.”

There were several exclamations of derision at this, making Calia aware of a small, shifting chorus of other coughing voices just beyond the two.

“Nho. Nho Fifteen-Millhon-Credit.” another pebbled voice rang out.

The man did not seem particularly disappointed.

“Very well, though I am afraid my offer is non negotiable… so, if you have anything else-”

But the second was not done. With evident malice it said.

“Nho. Nho Fifteen-Millhon-Credit. Nho Credit. We Grineer. We Can-Will Take Tennho.”

The man paused. His next words were soft, slow and careful, though betrayed no fear towards -what even Calia could observe, befuddled though she was, as- the evident threat.

“I would not deem that advisable.”

“Why nhot?” The second figure shot back.

Calia did recognize those robes! Blue on silver, flowing to the knees, could he be... a corpus? Calia smiled at the word. She wasn't quite sure what that term meant, but it elicited in her a deep sense of belonging, of family. Was the war over? Was she going home like she had been promised?

“Because that is an airlock” The man gestured to a vague smudge on the periphery of her vision. “And if you open fire, not only am I going to release it, but any of you wretches which escape will have to explain the affair to my dozen corporate interrogators waiting aboard this ship.” She could hear the cruel smile in his voice. “Trust me, they are well payed to make sure my vengeance from the Void is payed out in full.”

Calia had not noticed, but the second individual had brought up a large, bulbous weapon while he had spoken, which now drooped quickly towards a misshapen knee. Something about the mannerism of the action seemed to give off an aura of disappointment leading quickly into anger.

"Swa Grik Maks!" It cursed in some gibberish language. “Fhine. We. Pay.”

“Good.” The man opened his arms in a gesture of mock faith. “I thought you would. You know, you Grineer might be stupid, but at least-”

He was cut off once more, though this time it was not by a lashing voice, but by a sharp, deafening alarm. His posture fell.

“Whhat. That?” Asked the thing- the ‘Grineer,’ a word that felt so familiar on her lips, in a rare tone of innocence.

The figure merely stood stunned for a moment. Slowly his pink lips opened, then sprayed a thin spittle of rage. “You void-damned bafoons!” He cried. “You were followed- you lead them right to us!”

A realization seemed to dawn on the second. It turned and quickly began ordering its men “You, Goruk- Tash-la- Tesch. Gaurd Tennho and Corpus-Man. Rest- Spera ku, hum klem!”

“Look, if you want to fight that is your prerogative, but me and my merchandise are not staying here!”

THUNK! THUNK!

The bulbous weapon had been raised again, now firing two quick rounds that tore the protesting corpus apart at the waist. His blood and viscera splattered the glass. Calia retreated against opposite wall of her pod in horror. Her mouth was open, eyes wide. She let out a small gag.

“Chome! Kill!” The grineer motioned to its subordinates and soon all but a couple lonesome shadows had fled the room. She could still hear gunfire.

---

By the seven principles. She sagged against the pod’s padded backing. She could feel bile filling up in her mouth. She wanted to vomit, but there was nothing to throw up. Instead she dry heaved, tears filling her eyes, fists clenched and stomach rolling.

She heard something snuffling against the glass. She tried to ignore it. She tried to ignore everything. She wanted to go back to sleep. Why was she awake? She was not made of iron- she was- she was-

She looked down at her body. A flexible suit hugged her skin, neurodes poking here and there to expose a mesh of wiring and, beneath that… She peeled away a glove, staring slack jawed at the fleshy hand beneath.

She screamed.

She struggled and pushed at the door to her cryopod. The last vestiges of her dreaming fell away into a stark, horrible reality. She remembered being made of gold and silver and blades with thin gutters for the blood. She remembered killing and being killed, over and over again.

In a sudden gust of strength, the portal flipped open and she sprawled out onto a grime riddled floor. Where were the perfect white tiles? Where were the men with needles and soft voices to put her back to rest? She needed to find her metal body. She needed to be inside it, to be safe, to be brave again.

She looked up. Something was staring at her with a puzzled expression. It had a powerful jaw and a full set of teeth, including two, long, body-tearing tusks. It was almost like a Kubrow, but in place of thick fur there were only tough scales and small-set eyes. Was this her body? Was this her warrior?

She tried to Transfer with it. There was a sharp pain in the back of her skull. Her body melted and poured into the orifices of the beast. She- it was in agony. It reeled back, eyes wide. She was riding it- she was in it. She could see in its small, narrow vision three others. They were like men- but in a warbled reflection. They were sick caricatures- just like their hound; like her.

The muscles and thoughts of this thing were all wrong. It wasn't made for Transference, it wasn't her smooth metal. It bucked against her reins and she- afraid she would fall- kicked it forward at the nearest of the man-shaped-amalgamations.

She fell on it roaring, all muscle and tufts and teeth. She could feel its strained skin beneath her. She ripped at it. This felt right. She could hear it shrieking, and she didn't care, she continued to dig into its chest, tearing out cervos and guts alike with equal ferocity. And when it finally stopped moving she turned her attentions to the others.

They had both raised those blunt pistols.She didn't recognize them, but no matter. She had been shot a hundred thousand times and-

THUNK! THUNK!

Pain unlike she had ever experienced. Large bullets of lead burrowed under her dermal plates, causing blood and her essence to leak out like some sickly silver, coalescing light. She pushed through it and threw her dying weight at the attackers. She killed one quickly, ripped out his jugular. The other she staggered towards and finally collapsed, weak body giving out.
She pulled herself from the beast’s mind. It was hard. The flesh was all sticky and part of her leg got caught in the chest cavity as she reformed. Maybe this last figure would fair better? She had seen all their metal parts. Maybe that was her body to be.

She never got the chance to try. Another shot pierced her side. Then another. Then another. Silver light filled her vision. So many embers trailed her wounds. She lanced a beam of the stuff towards the figure, but it missed, melting and deforming the wall just behind it.

As she fell, dying again, the room’s far door opened with a hiss. The ship had gone silent she suddenly noticed. And in strode a golden warrior of old.

She smiled, then fell fast asleep.

---

 

 

Welcome back Tenno! It's good to see you again!