Mass Effect: Scars

[Erik Vale]

Aleandrea
Finally getting back, Aleandrea strides into her home, looking around, noting the left out groceries and other mess of her 3 room apartment.
"A mess, but it comes from living out of bags, however it means I have this one room..."
Smiling, Aleandrea leads an amorous Cheka to her third room, larger than usual in size, and completely bare.
"Certainly spacious."
"I was looking for perfect, but..." She rounds on Cheka.
"I figure that'll be a good start to the night."
Cheka smiles.
"I can see a long night ahead."
"Mmm... Weapons in the corner, let's get started."
Aleandrea turns.
"Tease-"
"I told you I'd have to defend my honor next time you said that... Besides, I want to give you a bruise you can actually tell a story about."
Cheka shake's her head with a sigh.
"Very well, I suppose I did say I'd spar."

Setting up, they started.
Cheka was a better fighter, it was what she focused on, her blocks were fast and just enough, her strikes were all either skilled feints without force, or would be rather well placed.
Except Aleandrea had this strange habbit of ducking and weaving, being right up where blows couldn't be properly thought or have the proper strength, and had moved Cheka near enough a corner that she could quite easily suddenly disappear with a blur and a clang, only to strike at Cheka's back.

It was frustrating, fast, and fun, the two moving quickly, when suddenly Aleandrea attempted a trip.
Turians however are inflexible, and rather good at turning trips around, and so Aleandrea found herself under Cheka, who held herself up with one arm upon Aleandrea's chest.
"I win."
"Do you?"
Aleandrea brought her arm up and around, striking Cheka's elbow forcing her to collapse down, holding her up with one hand much closer, giving her a kiss.

It was then sparring moved on to a more vertical, unprotected level.

[DoctorFaust]

Stepping up out of the booth after the contracts have been signed, Reyn'gerrel bows to Amanda once again. "Again, thank you for yourr hospitality," he says.

Gesturing vaguely at his glass while he walks towards the gambling table, Rey'gerrel sends it flying through the air, impacting on the far wall and narrowly missing hitting one of the servers full in the face. "I'll pay for the glassss," he slurs as he sits down. Beckoning over one of the other apron-clad servers and says, "Two shots of filtered rrryncol, a wedge of dextrro-cheese, and fifty one cred chips. I've got a burrrning need to lose some money to people."

[Noedig]

Gabe leaned back in his chair and sighed contentedly. Good food, good drink, a new job and five thousand credits in his accounts. He wondered absently how he was going to handle Heli. He wasn't sure the pro bono lifestyle was for him, but if she made a convincing argument, perhaps he'd change his tune. He already liked Reyn; the man could drink and he clearly knew how to have a good time. The drell girl was still an unknown variable. He'd never met one, though he had certainly heard rumors. She seemed nice enough. Quiet. Observant. Lithe. She looked good in armor. He chided himself quietly. Neither the time nor the place. Still, perhaps an introduction was in order.

'Scuse me, miss? We're working together, but I didn't catch your name. Mine is Gabriel."

[Lentrax]

The shuttle leaves the Citadel, its passengers fastened into small cramped seating in the rear.

"Hang on folks," a voice calls back from the cockpit. "We're taking a little trip to Sol. Citadel Control, this is Shuttle 225 Gamma, requesting permission to acess Citadel Relay."

"Permission Granted, 225 Gamma. Safe Journey."

***

A short time later, you find yourselves on the deck of a frigate in the Sol system.

A short woman emerges from the only door leading from the shuttle deck.

Dressed in Alliance fatigues, her short blonde hair doesn't reach down past her neck, revealing a jagged scar running down the left side of her face.

"Welcome aboard the Tripoli. I am Commander Fulgore. Things aren't getting any better out there, and we have been waiting on your arrival. Stow your gear below, and," she adds, "Leave everything where it is. Quartemaster will log it in and have it stowed away for you. This isn't a cruise liner, I suggest you hurry, we hit the relay in five."

On the other side of the bay, another shuttle is being loaded under the direction of a woman in tailor-fitted combat fatigues. Marking things off on a datapad as they are loaded into the shuttle, one of the crates falls out of a soldiers grip and crashes to the floor.

"Damnit, Kazinsky!" the woman shouts. "That crate is carrying the warheads for the launchers! You want to have a real bad day?"

"No, Sir!"

"Then get it aboard and check the warheads for damage!"

"Yes, Sir!"

The soldier, Kazinsky pulls the crate into the shuttle and pries the lid off.

The woman checks her pad again, and seeing that everything was loaded, turned to leave. As she does, you are able to make out her name, stitched in dark colors above her breast. Kerel.

Just above that, there was another decoration. A small insignia in a white that seemed to glow against the backdrop of dark blues that made up her uniform.

An insignia that read simply: N7.

[Erik Vale]

Angelina wasn't military by any means, however she worked alongside Alliance forces often enough that she had the respect to stand at attention.

As Aleandrea moves into the Tripoli she has trouble restraining a laugh, less trouble once she noted the N7 insignia.

'Well then, I might not make a complete mockery of the entire crew...' Aleandrea smiles as she thinks, it's always good to learn something new.

Shifting her bag on her shoulder, Aleandrea's free hand motions bringing up the light of of her Omnitool.
"Base search, Commander Fulgore, Alliance ship Tripoli."
With another motion it disappears as she moves further into the ship, quickly finding the bunks or pods.

[Rosenrot]

Orion snapped into a salute as the commander introduced herself.

Petty Officer Orion Lexington, Reporting for duty ma'am. I have my Alliance service record available for review if you wish to have it.

Orion dropped his gear off with the quartermaster, noting each item is etched with "OL" along with the last 4 of his alliance service number. the etching was force of habit from the training academy. Personal gear had a tendency to "walk away" if it was not properly labeled.

Ma'am, If it is alright with you, I would like to check in with the engineering bay.

[Noedig]

Gabriel took another long swig of the water he'd brought along, silently damning himself for getting so drunk. Aside from a miserable hangover, he was excited to get underway. He'd never been on an Alliance military ship before and he had reminded himself several times that this was not a tour, and that as badly as he wanted to wander the ship, it would be a bad idea. He dropped his gear with the quartermaster and did his best to stay out of the way of the military types. He hadn't looked into how mercs and soldiers got a long on average, but he imagined that it could be summed in a single word: poorly.

[Lentrax]

2148
The Face, Cydonia, Mars.

Heward walked down the hallway.

A hallway. On Mars. That wasn't built by us.

That the design wasn't anything resembling human was obvious.

That the technology discovered within would change humanity in ways the xenoarchaeologists walking these hallways could never expect was equally obvious.

SSV Tripoli
Inbound to Sol relay.

All Hands. This is the captain. We are about to set off on the first push of what will be a massive operation. There will be casualties. This war will not be bloodless. But I know each and every of you. I have every confidence that you will do your ship proud, as she will in turn make the Alliance proud.

The Face

The terminal was ancient. At least 20,000 years, and dating suggests it is even older than that. They didn't dare turn it on. Who knew what the Ancients built into it to safeguard the data within?

It was far too dangerous.

SSV Tripoli

I have faith in my crew. Faith that each and every one of you will see the day when we can put down our arms and rebuild what was lost. We have come a long way these past thousand years. From sail, to steam, to air, to space. Mankind has certainly come a long way, and now, we have a chance to prove we have every right to be part of the Galactic Community.

The Face

The console hummed as it came to life of its own volition.

'Jesus Christ!" One of the technicians exclaimed. "This damn thing just turned itself on by itself!"

Mystrichata relicth. Corun'athan misanti gresta... Misanti gresta.

The machine hummed again as circuits came to life after being dormant for so many long, cold years.

Thank you for waiting. We have analyzed your language and have added it to our datafiles. Please stand by for a message from the Architect.

If you are hearing this message. We have failed. Our species has been doomed to extinction, and we cannot prevent it at all. Contained within this datastore is the information necessary for you to leave the confines of your solar system. Research it well. And pray you have enough time. Time to learn the truth of *bzzt* I pray this information will help you.

Mathematical formulae, and scientific jargon began to fill the space in the room.

This information changed the course of history for a lone planet drifting in a Galaxy that seemed much larger now. The information was a miracle.

SSV Tripoli

Today is your day. Today is your chance to sign humanity into the annals of galactic history. Ready ship for Relay jump.

Earth, 2149

The data recovered from Mars detailed a new element, which would enable FTL travel to be possible by reducing the mass of an object to virtually zero.

The scientists of Earth mirrored the rest of the Galaxy when they called this property...

[Erik Vale]

Aleandrea, SSV Tripoli

The benefit of being a ship captain were the speeches, at least so Aleandrea assumed by the way Commander Fulgore addressed the ship. She was in this purely to prove herself well and get paid.

So far, Aleandrea was busily going through extranet sites next to her bunk, gear stowed, to familiarize herself with the ships captain and those she would be fighting alongside. She also had the ships layout available that way she could choose where would be her haunt.

[DoctorFaust]

After dropping his few remaining personal items off at the Quartermaster's station, Reyn'Gerrel ambles around the Tripoli, relying on his many longs years living on ships to direct himself to the mess. Bumping into a few of the other mercenaries who were hired alongside him as he walks, he mutters greetings to them.

Within a few minutes of starting to search, he manages to come across the ho-so-familiar smell of a well run ship's mess. Snagging a few of the dextro-paste packets that seem to be common on human ships, Reyn sits himself down near a group of Alliance soldiers and empties one into the nutrient pouches into the feed tube in his suit. Slurping down on the mush, he starts to listen in on their conversation.

[Rosenrot]

Spoiler

Show

I'm directing this at Doctor Faust

So, your obviously not alliance... Orion started to say as he sat down.

What brings you to this particular corner of hell?

[DoctorFaust]

Swallowing down his mouthful of food as the human sat down next to him, Reyn'gerrel replies, "Hired on as a freelancer for the Valkyries. They were apparently tapped by your Alliance for the job that's about to go down. Needed the credits and the way off the Citadel it provided."

Proffering a hand, he says, "Reyn'gerrel nar Luciole. What's yours?

[Rosenrot]

Orion Lexington, Alliance Engineer.

There is no way in hell I will be able to pronounce your name with out butchering it... do you have a nick name I can call you?

It had been a while since Orion had spoken to a non-human for anything outside of shopping for gear...

His mind paused for a half second. Mercs on an alliance ship? Something about this sounded odd...

[DoctorFaust]

"Feel free to simply call me Reyn. And if you feel like you might butcher that anyway, it's pronounced like the word rain. If that's any help at all."

[Rosenrot]

Pleasure to meet you Reyn. Wheres the rest of your crew? I couldn't help but noticed there were several of you Mercs upon boarding...

[MichaelGoldclaw]

"Name's is Heli'Ranor, Private First Class of the White Dragon Mercenaries. Good to meet you."

[DoctorFaust]

"I think I saw a man called Gabriel Cross that was also recruited. There is another Quarian called Heli'ranor, a drell who I was not introduced to, and I think I saw a human female who wasn't in uniform around as well. Might be a few others. I do not know who else the Vals recruited."

[Erik Vale]

"Well you add one to... The, list."
Aleandrea seemed to have a smile when she entered the mess hall, which promptly disappeared as she spotted the group, her eyes spending a bit of time on Reyn'gerrel's suit as her voice slowed down.
"I'm Aleandrea Biancovich. Don't think of calling me Alley, if you want to call me something else 'Lockdown' has been a favourite. Seems I'm meeting the ships freelance contingent all at once."

[Rosenrot]

Well, my happy ass just got assigned to this ship the same time you all decided to join this assignment. Did you guys receive any Intel? My orders where simply show up here within 72 hours...

[Erik Vale]

"Yea. Get on, fly to Eden Prime. Shoot bots and get paid lots. Or get my mother paid lots. I always make sure to add that last bit in, makes sure I'm not sent on suicide runs lest I choose to."

[Noedig]

Gabriel sat with his head down on the table in the far corner of the mess hall, his preferred choice of hangover cure of three full glasses of water, another full glass of chocolate soymilk and a bowl of steaming oatmeal sitting in front of him on a tray. He largely ignored those around him in favor of concentrating on the absolutely brutal headache he was now experiencing, and the unsettling color and consistency of the contents of his stomach he had wretched into the toilet a few minutes earlier. Several mental notes had been made about the deceptive potency of mead and its terrifying aftermath if consumed in large quantities. Of chief importance was the seeming escalating quality of the hangover, which was not pleasing.

He heard the quarian Reyn's tell tale, semi-synthetic sounding voice respond to something and he glanced up, squinting slightly. They were both there; the man and the quarian girl with the dragon armor. Sitting with them were two other humans, one of whom he'd caught a glimpse of with a very enticing looking turian woman at the bar, and another with tattoos who he did not recognize.

Gabriel put the words out of his head and studied the faces of the humans. Their faces didn't seem stiff. No frowns, no veiled contempt. Non-aggressive hand motions, relaxed posture. They were clearly at ease with the quarians, which boded well. They had also apparently sat at the same table of their own free will. The male was military, clearly. The female also perhaps? Certainly no stranger to military types if not. Again, this was good. He switched his gaze to the quarians.

Reyn seemed to be at ease with the two which was a good sign, but it was hard to tell. The lack of visible facial features made reading their emotions difficult, and alien body language was not as familiar to him. He could read nothing on Heli, but that worried him very little. She seemed to be a very straightforward individual. He did not see the drell girl, but then again, if the rumors about drell were even partially true, she likely wouldn't be seen until she wished to be.

Gabe put his head back down on the table and sighed. Normally he would be content to sit there and watch them, but this was not a normal situation. Very shortly, he could be relying on their expertise to keep himself alive, and vice versa. Best to play with the other children. He drained one of his waters in one go, set the glass aside and took his tray with him as he made his way over to their table.

"Good morning. May I sit with you?"

[Rosenrot]

As long as there is a seat feel free. If not, There is always the floor.

Orion smiled slightly, mostly out of sarcasm...

[DoctorFaust]

"Ah, Gabriel! says Reyn, just a little louder than necessary. "How did the mead treat you?"

[Noedig]

Gabe winced slightly and took his seat, grinning slightly. Two could play at this game.

"About as well as could be expected. You were the one drinking ryncol, but you're not dead so clearly everything went well on your end. Of course,"

He rapped his knuckles on the side of Reyn's helmet twice, whilst simultaneously shoveling the oatmeal into his mouth with the spoon in his other hand.

"You're also swimming in antibiotics and immuno-boosters, so hangovers could very well be a myth for your species. You'd drown in your own puke otherwise.

He gestured with his spoon to Heli, grinning wider.

"And what about you, Heli'Ranor nar Vannack? I don't seem to recall you enjoying our host's table last night. Do White Dragons forswear fun?"

[Rosenrot]

It would seem you guys had a hell of a party last night...

Orion tried not to imagine what would of happened to him if the other Asari didn't show up. She kept referring to "her pets"... hell maybe this crew has heard of her.

Question for you guys. I cough wind of a rumor, a female Asari who controls others minds to become her pets... have you heard anything like this before?

[MichaelGoldclaw]

"I just don't drink. I find other ways of entertaining myself and poison isn't one off them."

[DoctorFaust]

"No, we get hangovers. Just a bit more rare, at least in my experience. And as for the ryncol, one of the first things I learned on the Citadel was that the higher proof of the alcohol, the less of a reaction I have."

Shoving a second packet into his food tube, Reyn continues, "And no, I can't say I've heard anything about an Asari that could control people with her mind. Why, did you meet one?"

[Rosenrot]

Orion thought about how to answer that question. after a split decision, he answered

yeah, she used her abilities on me before another asari managed to find both of us and continued chasing the other...

[Lentrax]

Chapter One
Descent Into Madness

The briefing room on the Tripoli is cramped, with far too many people crammed in for comfort. Captain Rommel was briefing you on the upcoming mission. A holographic map of Paradise City was rendered above the table in the center of the room.

Commander Kerel will lead an infiltration team through the buildings and back alleys of Paradise City. Your objective, he adds, tapping a button, causing the map to zoom in to a central plaza, Is here. Geth artillery uncovered a Prothean relic underneath the city. The entire foundation of the city, waste reclamation, power lines, data cables, all of it was built on top of it, and we never suspected something was there. Intel reports that the geth have not been able to access its data yet, which is why we are moving on it. Commander?

Commander Kerel, still in her blue fatigues, stands up and presses another button on her console. We will be splitting into three teams. Each team will take a separate shuttle down to the surface and make their way to the objective. I will be leading Team One through the streets, drawing Geth fire with heavy weaponry. Team two will be led by Master Chief Kreig. They are taking the low road, hauling explosives through the sewers. The mercs recruited by Valkyrie are team three, providing cover for us from the building along our route to the artifact. If we cannot recover or copy the data from the artifact, our orders are to destroy it. And to prevent the Geth from accessing it at any cost. Any questions?

[Erik Vale]

Aleandrea
Aleandrea stood with eyes furrowed slightly, thinking to herself.
'I'm not packing for long range, but I can bounce in and out... Besides, lots of rounds, I'll just make sure I have a spare clip, to bad Geth Weapons don't salvage to well... Operational range means gunfire's the only thing useful unless a team goes down... Sewer team should be fine which mean's we'll be side on supporting the noise makers...'

"Any Vanguards in our number, just wanting to know how controlled my shots have to be... Do we have any knowledge of Geth numbers and composition, as well as response time for any reinforcements."