Dawn of Solace (closed)

[The Melancholy Spirit]

The Setting
Man’s destiny was the stars, so many in the 20th claimed. In the 22nd they reached it, at first finding nothing more than the cold, ‘empty’ space they expected. Early into the 23rd first contact was made with a sentient, intelligent alien species. As humans ventured into the fringe of the alien species, the kiran, territory they began to learn they were far from alone in the galaxy. It also became quickly evident that humanity was a small and extremely new player in the game of galactic politics. The established species in the galaxy would all eventually play a part in humanity’s struggle in space, though none so early or as strongly as the kiran and aradar.

Humanity always had an issue with dominance, some members more extreme than others. As fate would have it, humanity shared a border of galactic territory with the Kiran. Relations with the other species in the early days of humanity’s interstellar political introduction were tense moments. Language barriers needing to be crossed via cooperative attempts by linguistics from all species complicated matters. To further complicate matters, humanity was, at the time, dealing with internal issues.

Fifty years, earth standard, after first contact the situation turned into the ‘Worst Case Scenario’ predicted by several scientific parties. Admiral Joseph T. Craighan, a vocal extremist of humanity being superior and the divine-right given caretakers of the galaxy, was at the head of the incident. Admiral Craighan and his fleet were stationed on the ‘western’ fringe of human space that bordered with kiran space. An issue came up between the two species, whatever the issue was lost to time as both species claim several different realities. Whatever the issue, however, it is clear what truly caused the incident.

Admiral Craighan was, simply, not the man suited for any job on the border. His extremist views led him to saying things the kiran took, not a hard thing to do either, with much scorn. Threats were exchanged in the meeting, and both parties left filled with hostility. While there are many humans who still claim otherwise, it is well known that the kiran, while volatile as they are, were not the species that fired the first shot. Admiral Craighan was personally responsible for the death of nearly his entire fleet, and the start of the war that would all but place humanity in the list of extinct species.

Eventually the aradar stepped in as a position of ‘galatic judges’ to put an end to the war. However, it was barely before things were too late. Earth was gone, entirely destroyed by the war. Humanity had no central government, split across several colonized worlds trying to piece together their own central governments, with military forces pulled from surviving soldiers and new recruits. These planets, however, were not willing to pull together. The few that were large enough to create any semblance of civilization quickly were at odds with each other over who would run humanity now that the old leaders were all dead. More struggles were waged, humanity again becoming its own worst enemy. Majority of people were refugees, and many fled human space to neutral zones. The most popular of these being a vast station run by corporations with no allegiance to any species or government therein. While Pax Cyreon was a dangerous place, and humans were a tolerated, unwelcome guest facing scorn and racism, in many ways it was safer than trying to scrape out a living on those ‘human worlds’ still remaining.

Six generations later… little has changed

The Station
Pax… the dark, dirty, gritty symbolic heart of the galaxy. Even the greatly advanced Aradar don’t have the glorified ‘green tech’ humanity always envisioned. Technology in the galaxy is still dirty, nothing is clean. Pax is the prime example of that. The station is shaped like a pendulum, with a spire roughly twenty kilometers long rising from the center of an oval-shaped ring. The bottom is called The Pit, a filthy place covered in the pollution of the factories spread across the area roughly the size of the once great city of New York on Earth. With no government what-so-ever, The Pit is broken up into numerous districts. Many are owned by corporations in the spire, otherwise known as the Oracle. These districts are policed by the corporation’s forces, heavily fortified and mostly taken up by factories and the housing of workers. The other districts are either controlled by gangs, or neutral zones. Both of which are slums, inside of the already great slum itself that is called The Pit.

As one lifts out of the thick layers of pollution and find the spire, leading up to the oracle, they find that it is filled with large platforms, often circular or oval in shape, jutting out of the walls and suspended over the drop. Here are the numerous corporations, and their more clean factories and the true business ends of things. While Pax as a whole does not have any ties to any species, or government, many of those within Pax do.

[The Melancholy Spirit]

Species: Nuro'tai (Commonly referred to as 'ticks')
Appearance:

Spoiler:

Home Planet: Kara'Kre

Planet Description: : Kara'Kre is a desolate looking planet with nothing but deserts covering the majority of the planets surface with very few sheltered canyons many miles deep covering the rest. Storms ravage the surface of the planet, and nearly half of the planet is constantly covered in said storms. Many of Nuro'tai live either in these canyons, or deep beneath the desert surface in cones made of hardened glass forged from the very ground with which they are taking shelter under. Many meters thick and able to withstand standard ordinance from orbiting ships, these underground structures are some of the strongest buildings that are not made of metal. In order for visitors to gain access to the majority of the underground matrix known as Yargur (Roughly translated to 'Sea of Glass'), they have to dock with the outer portion of the complex near the canyons. Everything else is deep underground and is completely sealed off from the rest of the galaxy.

Atmospheric Conditions: Earth Standard with higher amounts of Nitrogen. A high metallic presence in the ground keeps everything oxidizing, along with the gravity being very light allowing the Nuro'tai to survive.

Species Description: Ticks are a very small, but intelligent species. The biggest being a little over one and a half feet, and weighing around sixty pounds. This being said, they are also very frail creatures, and it doesn't take much for them to be hurt or killed by the many bigger and stronger races out there. Along with this, their blood is incredibly toxic to every race except for the Kira, introducing new spores in their blood which allow for a higher thought process up and above that of other species, but their body expires due to this at the early age of 40 standard years. In order to compensate for their low physical prowess, most Ticks have taken to small personal hover devices known as 'Floaters'. A disc like device designed especially for the Nuro'tai, and used en mass by the entire populace in order to get from point A to point B quickly, and stay out of harms way as they cannot move with any great speed on their own. There eyes are also better suited to low light conditions, allowing them to see in the dark with ease, while having to wear dark goggles during the 'day' on other planets to avoid being blinded. Small, fragile, and intelligent are the trademark descriptions of the Nuro'tai.

Personalities: To sum up the personalities of most of the Ticks, it would be pride. They take themselves on a higher level, often believing that if they have thought of something, it will work. This being said, they are also a cowardice race, often avoiding frontal confrontation whenever they are able to do so. While their are the exceptions to this rule, as it would be for any race, most of them stem from the feeling of pride, and feeling of fear when confronted. It doesn't take much to shake one down, if you have the upper hand. They are also masters of plans, and usually have several back ups if one goes wrong.

Strengths/weaknesses:
+ Intelligent
+ Night Vision
+ Personal transportation devices
+ Excellent bartering skills
- Small in size, easy to kill
- Pride
- Need darkened goggles to see during 'bright' hours

Method of Reproduction: The laying and seeding of eggs

Tech Level: Medium

Common Jobs: Scientist, Head engineer, architect, merchant.

















Species: Boros
Appearance:

Spoiler:

Home Planet: Poltar

Planet Description: Poltar is 70% land, and 30% water. The land itself has mutated to adapt to the low water conditions, and small animals and plants cover the entire surface of the world. The weather and atmosphere are almost identical to the lost Earth, with the exception of fewer rainfalls, and water-related natural disasters. Ideally, this planet is like a paradise to those who have grown tired of tech of today's universe. The Boros have set up one city on the entire planet that uses the tech of today, while every other settlement is patched together by huts, tents, and lean-to's. Tribal in many aspects, the tech of every other settlement save Gragar (tech city), is nothing more than nature being the only resource they need to survive. Tall trees that have adapted to the lack of water make up their building materials, small medicinal plants make up their aid functions, and small animals also adapted to the lack of water make up their main source of food.

Atmospheric Conditions: A mix of Oxygen and Hydrogen, with oxygen being slightly higher, along with a heavier than Earth Standard gravity.

Species Description: : Boros stand at an average of six feet, usually lean and slightly muscular. It is very uncommon to see a Boros that is out of shape in any way or form. Due to the nature of their planet lacking water, and essential ingredient for life, they can last up to a couple of months without a single drop. Their skin has hardened to the point of almost shell like, making them naturally resistant to the elements, and an outer bone structure allows them to survive blows that would cripple humans and acts as a natural body armour, evolved from some of the harsh elements that 'summer' on the planet would sometimes bring. The main difference between Male and Female is the array of colours their outer bone structure provides. A male will often have dark colours portraying his outer shell, while a woman will have brighter colours, most often blue or red, portraying their outer shell. The longest living Boros reached the age of 130 standard years.

Personalities: All Boros are a naturally peaceful race, never one to anger quickly, if at all. Wise, gracious, and completely understanding of everyone and everything around them, they are the most well liked race on the galactic board. Rarely will you ever see one take up arms other than to defend himself or someone else, and they will always be respectful of others.

Strengths/Weaknesses:
+ Hard Exo-skeleton for defence and armour
+ All trained in hand to hand self defence combat
+ Very emotionally stable
+ Trusted by all races
- Lack of firearms training, and lack of will to get training
- No standing military
- Low tech

Method of Reproduction: Sexually

Tech Level: Low

Common Jobs: Teacher, Doctor, Advisor, Guide, Hunter, Priests.





Species: Kira
Appearance:

Spoiler:

Home Planet: Jorakree

Planet Description: A harsh planet pocket marked with volcanoes, boiling whirlpools, large carnivorous mammals, and deadly diseases. This world is one that is not looked very fondly, or very often on. While from an orbital view, the planet is beautiful to gaze upon, once inside the atmosphere, the air itself is thick, and toxic to every other race out there. Water is polluted, food is fought for with lives at stake, and survival is more of a gamble than a certainty. The gravity is slightly higher than Earth norm, making each mammal or creature one of strength in their own rights. With a harsh world as this, everything is hostile, including the plants who produce so many toxins that to eat one is to invite almost certain death.

Atmospheric Conditions: High concentrations of sulphur and carbon dioxide, along with high gravitational pull.

Species Description: The Kira are the most naturally resistant race in the galaxy. Their skin has evolved and hardened to form a thick reptilian skin close to alligator or elephant hide. Their blood has changed into it's own anti-disease and poison device, able to track and destroy all traces of each, they are immune to both. Male and female are nearly identical save for their reproductive organs which are protected by a shell when not in use, therefore masking which gender they are, and can last to a healthy age of about 90 earth years if they survive that long. Kira can tell each other apart through smell, but for every other species it is next to impossible to tell. They stand at an average of 5'10, heavily muscular through forced conditions, and smart enough to utilize the technology of today's galaxy, but not create the level that the rest of the universe has attained.

Personalities: Rough and tumble, all Kira are geared towards violence in one way or another. Having lived with it their entire life, most, if not all, see that as a means to an end. While they are not necessarily arrogant, they are extremely confident of themselves and their ability. You will rarely see one back down from a fight, or suffer retreat. They are determined, sometimes reckless, and most are prone to fits of battle rage, where they are completely uncontrollable.

Strengths/Weaknesses:
+ Hard leather skin offers protection
+ Anti-poison/toxin cells in their bloodstream allow them to be immune to nearly every poison and breathe almost any atmosphere
+ Determined creatures who fight to the death
+ incredibly well built
- Low tech
- Battle rage
- Not necessarily the smartest creatures in the world
- Poor public relations

Method of Reproduction: Sexually

Tech Level: Low

Common Jobs: Mercenary, Security, Bodyguard, Heavy Manual Labourer, Slave Master



Species: Aradar (Air-e-dair)
Appearance:

Spoiler:

Home Planet: Iris
Planet Description: Iris is the pinnacle of Galactic technology. One massive city spawning the entire planet, covering land, sea, and air. It is more akin to a hive mind, with members of the race zipping across in giant tram lines, or even better, using the only functional teleporters in the known universe. The whole world is now devoid of any and all natural life. All food, water, ecosystems, plants, etc are now completely made and controlled by the Aradar. They have, in short, conquered the planet itself. This entire rock of civilization sports trading and merchants on a galactic scale, builds and maintains their own fleet, and does everything from solving medical mysteries to saying 'bless you' when you sneeze. The planet can and will do everything that the Aradar want it to, until the very core of the planet fails or the sun explodes.

Atmospheric Conditions: High hydrogen atmosphere with light gravity conditions.

Species Description: : The Aradar are a complex race, and that is an understatement. More machine than organic, their suits work in a few different ways. First, they act as an isolation chamber, keeping them protected from diseases or toxins that have not been found and cured on their home planet, having their own air reserve, allowing them to survive in the vacuum of space, and adding armour that, while not as strong as modern day armour, allows them to take glancing blows and shots with barely a nod. Along with this, several functions, tools, and uses are added or subtracted from the suit over the course of their lives. They can have a limited amount of additional cores added to the suit, say, adding a defensive shield to their warrior cast, or a medical exo-skeleton to their doctors.

Speaking of the race as a whole, they are built into a very rigid caste system, placed their when they are 'created'. Their are four castes, each with their own sub-caste. These four main ones being (Brackets mean human terms): Karakai (Worker), Horatul (Research), Veratoz (warrior), and Carata (Regal). Once created into these castes, there is no way for them to switch. They stuck in these castes for their entire lives, all 300 standard years of them. The worker class being the engineers and servants for the higher class. While not the highest on the totem pole of life, they are essential to their way of life. Without them, they would not have ships, the city, or their suits. The researchers, while being able to come up with these ideas and how they can work, do not have the time or resources necessary to build them. Thus, these ideas are shifted down to the worker caste, where they create it. The resources are the second least populated caste. The warrior caste are straightforward. They are the military, the navy, and authority. If anyone fights, it will be them or the regal class. The workers and researchers are left out of any and all fighting. Last are the regal class, the leaders of the Aradar people. Often outfitted with an enhanced version of their lifesuit, they are trained as warriors, smart enough to be researchers, and hardy enough to be workers. Often they will be assigned to watch over a section of a caste, and there they will learn their main trade, while still being able to do the others. The planet is not led by one individual, but rather this whole caste, who come together often to decide and vote on important manners. While these regal caste members are all revered, the warrior leaders are the ones who pull the most weight. Being able to take control of the military leads to great power, even though none have ever used it in a way that would bring harm to their own people. This being said, every member of the Aradar species is one of honour and discipline. While it is very rare to see an Aradar cast out, they do so when they have either disgraced their sense of honour, or the will of the Aradar people.

Biologically, they are about 80% machine, and 20% organic. Having shed most of their living shell in the pursuit of knowledge and science, they are the longest lived, and revered race in the galaxy. Their suit functions as their skin, and while hard to penetrate, breaking through the suit would be equal to stabbing through the skin. Underneath is vulnerable, and looks akin to organs hooked up to several tubes and wires. This being said, they are also known to be incredibly arrogant, taking it upon themselves as the Galaxy's 'keepers'. They have taken control of authoritative measures, including races only if they are within the territories of said species. For the most part, over half of the Galactic Civil Protection is made of Aradar. So, while revered and respected, quite a few members of different species have been very vocal about the way everyone else is looked down upon. Nothing has been done to quell these members yet, but everyone knows it is just a matter of time.

Personalities: Honour and Discipline play a very large part in the society of the people of Aradar. If challenged to a one on one duel, to say no would mean a black mark on yourself for the rest of your days. they are also quite arrogant, believing themselves to be much better than anyone or anything out there, and are not above pointing it out to everyone. Along with this comes along the sense of purpose, most Aradar are driving for some goal, even if it appears as if they aren't.

Strengths/Weaknesses:
+ Suits allow unrivalled advantage over other races
+ Largest standing military, along with discipline, training, and tech
+ Most technologically advanced race in the galaxy
+ Galaxy's 'caretakers'
-Fragile underneath the suit
-Rigid caste system allows for little to no individuality
- Arrogance and over-confidence

Method of Reproduction: Reproduction, if you want to call it that, for the Aradar is a complicated piece of technology. Aradar do not reproduce naturally, but instead, build their race from giant vats of genes and DNA. Every member of their race enters their gene into the vat at birth, making the combinations random, keeping an individuality to their people. Once the DNA has been seeded out of the vat, they grow them into the necessary organic parts needed for an Aradar to survive. Once that is done, they are attached with several machines and components that improve on what used to be their organic bodies. Once life has been established, they quickly seal them inside their suit like a tomb, not to be removed for the first ten years of life. After which the machine and organic parts will have melded together and leave of the suit can be granted without near instantaneous death. Through this very act, rumours and stories have risen and taken seed among the galaxy that the Aradar did not evolve naturally. That maybe they were created by an even stronger race of aliens. The Aradar claim time and again that if they were created, they have no idea by who, or for what reason. They do not pray to a god or saviour, and believe only in what science and logic can prove to them.

Tech Level: Very High

Common Jobs: Diplomats, Corporate leaders, Military Leaders, High End Bounty Hunters, Galactic Civil Protection.

[The Melancholy Spirit]

Gang Name: Toxix ('Toxies')

Gang Leader: Jask "Poison" Lyger

Gang Leader Bio: Poison is a man who you simply don't want to meet. He is cruel beyond all reasoning, and is not only able to live with the acts he commits, but is able to reason away why he does them. Born in the Gas Chamber, Jask has never known what it was like to breathe without a rebreather on his face. As he grew up, his parents nothing but drug fiends, his friends nothing but criminals, and the police force nothing but corporate muscle, his anger started to boil. He started small, gathering only his closest friends and making small time crime in order to get by. Stealing, pick-pocketing, vandalism, anything you would associate with kids in crime. As Jask and his crew grew older, they managed to gather some followers, and stepped up their game. They started raiding corporate buildings whenever they could, would single out anyone that wasn't one of theirs and either kill them or force them into the gang. Along with this, Jask decided they get serious with their weapons. He started having his boys find or make weapons out of anything, and before long, he had strong gang that was loaded with one type of weapon or another. He named them Toxix, and set out trying to force their way out of the Gas Chamber, and he's not looking to make friends.

Standout Feature: Often members skin is blotchy and discoloured in most places. They are almost entirely humans, and are always seen with either a small rebreather around their mouth and nose, or a full face mask that looks akin to a bug. Along with this, they are also highly resistant to pain, the pollution altering their very nerves to the point where they feel next to nothing. In other words, the only way they stop is to put them down for good.

Base of Operations: A heavily polluted and desolate in the eastern section of the Pit known commonly as the 'Gas Chamber'. Pollution is so thick that to enter without a rebreather or some sort of breathing apparatus is complete and total suicide. Buildings of this section tend to be less stable than anywhere else on Pax, and thus the Toxix gang have moved their hideout underground where it is protected from the worst of the pollution along with protection from the hazardous buildings. The current location is unknown.

Gear: Toxix are not well armed, sticking mainly to small arms and using anything as a melee weapon. Anything from knives to iron bars to pieces of wood. Anything and everything can be used as a weapon to them.

Gang Mentality: They are all ruthless killers, whether from choice, or forced into the position. They will all kill anyone without mercy, and do anything they need to in order to free themselves from their home. There are rumours that the pollution has affected their minds, making them more feral or tribal, but one hasn't been alive or captured long enough to test this theory.

Current Allies: None
Current Enemies: Everyone






Gang Name: The Hopeful (Members commonly referred to as 'Hoppies')

Gang Leader: Dr. Triss Harold

Gang Leader Bio: Rumour has it that Triss came from the Oracle. Her training as a doctor and her attitude towards everyone and everything seemingly too caring to have come from anywhere else. Truth be told, no one knows where exactly Triss came from, only that she appeared a few years back with nothing but a lab coat, medical supplies, and a lot of money. She quickly set herself up, hiring a small army of mercenaries to protect her, and set up shop in an abandoned clinic down in the Pit. She used these mercenaries to ward off any would-be attackers while she restored the clinic to working condition, and started taking in the wounded from the streets, fixing them up, and shipping them back out without the wounded dishing out a single cent. Soon, the mercenaries were either let go, or joined up with Triss out of their own will, protecting her and her clinic for free. A lot of people she has helped have also joined up with her, and have quickly turned the Clinic into not only a place of healing, but a heavily armed fortress. Guards loaded with automatic weapons patrol the roof and the doors around the building. The Clinic, renamed to 'The Hopeful' giving the group of people their name as well. With this being said, they have also put a giant bullseye on their backs from those less than moral gangs that would steal her supplies for their own personal use. The Hopefuls have had to fend off more than one attack on their building, but have never tried to gain any territory for themselves. Triss limits her contact to the outside to that of her patients, never dealing with anyone that isn't either injured or part of their gang. Kind, caring, and totally devoted to helping all within her power.

Jonathan Letter: Triss's second in command. Jon heads up the military aspect of the Hopefuls, and is one of the mercenaries that joined up with Triss for nothing. He is devoted to the cause that Triss is trying to promote, but has a slightly twisted way of looking on it. The way he sees it, they shouldn't be trying save everyone, only those worth saving. The good, the poor, and the oppressed. When she takes in a gang member, more than one lengthy arguments have been had at the end of the operation. Jonathan takes care of the clinic's defences, along with being the sheriff inside the building, having to deal with patients who decide they either want out before they are ready, or think they can steal supplies from the Hopefuls. Jonathan also deals with all contact with outsiders. He has been known to hire mercenaries to deal with certain gang members who pose a threat to the clinic. This has been a hot topic between Jon and Triss for as long as they can remember, but in the end, Triss lets him do it. Understanding he is doing what he can to protect the Clinic. Jonathan is a hard man with a soft interior. He comes across as rude, crude, angry, and sometimes violent, but in the end, he is doing what he believes is right, and helping those he can.

Standout Feature: Most guards of the Hopefuls are armed quite well, often with assault rifles and full body armour supplied by Triss. This being said, they are one of the few gangs in Pax who willingly take in people to their territory, although they are very watchful of all new comers.

Base of Operations: A fairly large clinic in what could pass as the nicest part of the Pit. Heavily fortified and guarded, but completely in the open for everyone to see.

Gear: The mercenaries that joined with Triss are all armed with their own assortment of weapons and armour, although the most common being assault rifles and full body armour. Non-mercs who are posing as guards are often loaded with vests and sub-machine guns.

Gang Mentality: Definitely one of the friendlier gangs in all of Pax. They actively search for people in trouble, and are often dragging wounded back to the clinic. They fight only when they have to, but when they do, they will fight with such utter devotion that morale-breaking devices are often completely ineffective. Everyone that is in the Hopefuls is there of their own accord, and thus believe completely in what Triss is doing. They do not fire unless either fired upon, or believe that they are about to be attacked. A risky business when dealing with the underground of Pax, but few of the guards complain.

Current Allies: Med-X
Current enemies: Toxix, Hard Heads, Bomb Squad





Gang Name: Hard Heads

Gang Leader: "Head Master"

Gang Leader Bio: Head Master threw away his real name when he took over the gang from the last Head Master. This man has happened to be leader for the past five years now, and he is filled with a wisdom you would not expect from a gang leader. He has his cruelty, his hostility, and his uncaring side to him, but his knowledge of damn near everything is somewhat of a question for everyone else around the Pit. How does he have so much knowledge on the workings of not only Pax, but the surrounding galaxy? Rumour has it that he has moles in the highest corporations, but nothing has been proven thus far. Head Master has also been known to head out on missions with his men, taking the danger on head first while most other gang leaders hide behind an army of henchmen. Head Master has a weird sense of honour. He is not above putting a bullet in someone's back, but only if they were in the middle of a fight, or about to start a fight. While he doesn't kill women personally, this can not be said for the rest of his gang, which he doesn't care if they do or don't. He is a complicated person, often coming across as a wise old man, and then five minutes later, like a violent psychopath. He is not to be underestimated, and unlike the rest of the gang leaders, has earned his position through trials of fire.

Standout Feature: Out of all of the gangs in the entire Pit, Hard Heads have to be the strongest physically. Even their lowly recruits are giant slabs of muscle, and as such, are often too large to wear most full body armour. Their numbers are low due to the extreme physical requirements, but each and every member is equal to at least three men in strength. Along with this, they are a completely male based gang, not sporting a single woman among their number.

Base of Operations: The Hard heads are based on the opposite side of the Toxix gang, on the western side of the Pit. This section of the Pit is filled with all sorts of factories, and the workers are often going eighteen hours at a time doing very hard and straining physical labour. This has produced what has become the status quo for the Hard Heads. Currently they have stolen a factory from one of the main corporations, and use it to base themselves out of. Along with this, they also have the machinery to produce anything from weapons to vehicles in this one factory, and each of them is filled with the knowledge of how to do so from their labours.

Gear: Most of the Hard Heads use either shotguns or some sort of blade, long and sharp. While swords are out of date, these weapons are infused with a miniature version of a incinerator. Shaped like grenade, and installed into the hilt of the sword with cords running through the edges of the blades, when turned on, sends heat travelling along said cords. These generate enough heat to slice through most body armour with ease.

Gang Mentality: The Hard Heads are mainly a mission based group. They don't go out and create havoc for the simple cause of creating havoc, but rather have specific goals whenever they move out of their territory. While they are completely without remorse when they move, if you stay out of their way, they see no reason to spend energy killing you. If you are in their way, only one of you is walking out of there alive. They are hardened, they are remorseless, and they are to be avoided if they are seen out of their territory.

Current Allies: Bomb Squad
Current Enemies: Toxix, The Hopeful's





Gang Name: Bomb Squad
Gang Leader: Tyler Pontain

Gang Leader Bio: Tyler Pontain used to be part of a company based security detail, being paid to watch over a series of warehouses down in the pit, make sure that the cargo remained in the hands of his respective corporation. What they didn't plan ahead was just the amount of greed within one of their own security detail. Tyler, along with a couple other corrupt security members planned the raid, executed it perfectly, and managed to make off with enough explosives to destroy Pax three times over. With this, he and his fellow robbers managed to escape from the warehouses, and set up shop in a occupied hotel building, which ended up being unoccupied by the time they moved in. They quickly set up a perimeter using the explosives they had managed to grab, and had them an effective killzone that only they knew how to get in or out. Tyler took over the lead, with his five other original members making up his inner circle. Tyler quickly took to taking the book-keeping sort of role, giving his inner circle the go ahead on anything they wanted to do. These members decided that the best way to ensure loyalty was to not give their members a choice. Fastening several dozen explosives into collars, they snuck out during the night cycle, and stole anyone who looked like he or she could fight. By fastening these collars to their necks, therefore ensuring that if they ever ran away, or tried to fight back, all the inner circle needed to do was push a button to cut them short. Tyler keeps a public presence among the Pit, but for most of the grunt work and leadership among the slaves, he leaves to his inner circle.

Harry Westlie: A complete and utter hard ass. He only cares for the slaves like a carpenter cares for his tools. You don't go out of your way to harm them, as they don't work when they are broken, but are still replaceable. He is an asshole, plain and simple.

Lisa Truegold: A bitch hiding under the skin of an innocent girl. She has the looks to pull off the 'I didn't do it' face, but when it comes down to it, if she's talking to you, it's because she wants something. Be it equipment, or your life. She is used as an assassin among the gang because of her deceiving looks. Chances are if you see her and you're not part of the Bomb Squad, she's there to kill you.

Larry Jurard: Out of the entire circle, Larry is probably the easiest to talk to, but that ain't saying much. He would rather shoot you than talk to you, but he manages to keep a rational head more often than any of the others save Tyler. He's in charge of any outsider contact, specifically supplies or informants.

Nick Mararder: This is probably the coldest man you will ever meet. He never talks, or at least, no one outside of the inner circle has heard him talk. He shoots people for looking at him wrong, he detonates the collars of slaves to set examples. He is in charge of base defence, and full blown assaults. If you see this man, have your gun in your hand and aimed, for he will already be shooting at you.

Standout Feature: The entirety of the Bomb Squad is made up of slaves, and since there is no form of authority in the Pit, there is no one to stop them from increasing their number from among the innocent. Each one is strapped with a bomb collar, and it has been known for their collars to explode when one of the inner circle believes it will do more damage.

Base of Operations: A Hotel in fairly decent condition. Signs along with a makeshift fence surround the building warning people away from the site. This is not because they fear the death of innocents, but rather the unnecessary use of their explosives. Three stories tall and filled to the brim with expendable slaves.

Gear: Almost all the slaves are loaded with Killswitch grenades. Standard frag grenades that come with a killswitch to avoid slaves throwing them at unwanted targets. This being said, they have slightly longer detonation times. Other than that, the slaves are thrown out there without armour, with only a few grenades, and most often with make shift melee weapons such as metal pipes or sharpened pieces of wood. The inner circle is armed to the teeth with full body armour, helmets, and grenade launchers along with an assortment of other explosives. Each one is their own army in their own right.

Gang Mentality: The majority of the Bomb Squad are simply innocent people who are forced to do something they don't want to do. This being said, they are easily morally broken, and often try to swarm their enemies rather than use any sort of tactics. Most of the time, the inner circle will send out parties for the sole purpose of satisfying their urge to see someone die. The inner circle themselves often don't show until they actually need something done. If you see anyone of them, then chances are they have a set goal in mind.

Current Allies: Hard Heads
Current Enemies: Toxix, The Hopefuls





Gang Name: Bottom Dwellers
Gang Leader: Isaac "Crutch" True

Gang Leader Bio: Crutch was born and raised in the very bottom of Pax, what is known to people in the Pit as the "Wasteland". Here, he was constantly among the radioactive waste that was flushed down to the bottom to be ejected into space by the high and mighty corporations. It was through this that the people of the Wasteland started mutating, some for the better, some for the worse. Crutch himself, at the tender age of twelve, had his back begin to start warping on him, making him appear as if he was an old man of 90 rather than a twelve year old. Along with this, his veins along his arms, legs, and face, started glowing a dull green, and his body got incredibly muscular quickly. At the age of 20, He was 6'2, hunched over, and built like an ogre. He was one of the luckier ones, some kids having been born without eyes, limbs, or internal organs. Others having been born with multiples of those parts. Even more so who were altered as life went on. There are reports of even men and aliens down in the wasteland who could see in the dark, eat and drink poison without any ill effects, or be completely immune to any sort of pain. Crutch formed his gang once he was old enough, and had gained enough popularity among the rest of the wastelanders. Truth be told though, he wasn't in this to gain territory, to create havoc, or anything really associated with gangs. He was in this strictly for survival, but unfortunately that meant stepping on some toes. He made the Bottom Dwellers one of the very few pacifist gangs in the area, or what could pass as pacifist on Pax anyways. They never kill, or even harm anyone unless their very life depends on it, but they do steal and cheat anything and everything away from everyone. Using the sewers and underground network, they have set themselves up as thieves and informants.

Standout Features: All Dwellers are altered in some form or another. The luckiest getting off with simple weird eye colours, while others can barely move. While Dwellers are one of the few gangs who are multi-racial, it is often hard to tell the aliens apart from the humans due to mutations. Along with this, they are also very rarely armed with any sort of weapon, preferring flight over fight in every situation if they can help it.

Base of Operations: Due to the nature of the Wasteland, the Dwellers are not restricted to a single building or block for them to base themselves out of. The entirety of the Wasteland is theirs, none of the gangs or corporations wanting it due to the radioactivity and toxic waste. Roughly twenty blocks of territory is theirs, along with it's own main gate to prevent the leak of toxic waste reaching the rest of Pax.

Gear: The Dwellers are very lowly equipped, most not even carrying handguns or knives. Instead, they rely more on communications gear to keep in touch, and are often seen with wrist-mounted PCD's (Personal Communication Device) so they can easily talk to each other.

Gang Mentality: These Dwellers are not violent, nor are they angry or jealous in any sort of way. Each one accepts what has become of them, and has accepted the feeling of family that Crutch has been able to introduce to them. They are pacifist by nature, avoiding fights where they can, and they try to stick to what is their version of the 'law'. They will work for anyone, gather information for anyone, but never will they hurt anyone for anything. This rule has been spread throughout the gang, and the only time you will see one of them fight is when they have absolutely no choice.

Current Allies: None
Current Enemies: Toxix

[The Melancholy Spirit]

Database Under Construction

[The Melancholy Spirit]

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[The Melancholy Spirit]

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[The Melancholy Spirit]

General Information:
Name: Marcus Crestana
Sex: Male
Ethnicity: Spanish
Age: Twenty-seven
Home Planet/Station: Pax
Profession: Former Runner

General Appearance:
Height: 173 cm (5’8”)
Weight: 71kg (156lbs)
Skin tone: Fair
Eye Color: Hazel
Hair Color: Black
Hair Style: Slight wave, worn to just below his shoulders and almost always tied back
Facial Hair: Full stubble

Face Structure:
General: High and shallow cheekbones, angular jaw, wide chin
Standout Features: His nose bears the marks of having been broken, likely several times

Piercing(s):
-Left ear: 0ga (hollow) and a small ring in cartilage
-Right ear: 0ga (hollow)

Scar(s):
Face: Titled ‘J’ shaped laceration scar over his left cheekbone
Torso: A few minor knife-injury scars on his chest and back, as well as a glancing bullet-scar over his lower left ribs
Arms: A couple knife scars on his right bicep, oppositely angled diagonals an inch and a half apart forming a broken ‘>’
Legs: Minor plasma burn on his left shin

Common Clothing:
- Head: Solid red bandana
- Torso: Light grey tank-undershirt, black surplus utility jacket, half-finger engineer gloves
- Legs/Feet: Dark blue utility-cargo-pants (complete with utility belt), dark brown engineers boots

Weapon(s):
- Main: S-6 Semi-automatic rifle, iron sights and side-mounted fold-over scope
- Side-arm: 12 mm M-3 Heavy Pistol

Miscellaneous Gear:
- A few tools (pliers, small wire cutters, splicing kit, etc)
- ‘Field’ Survival supplies (food, water, minor first-aid kit, etc)
- 50’ hyper-tension rope

Personality: Marcus is a nonchalant and sarcastic individual with a good head on his shoulders for dangerous situations. He has a good sense of situational awareness and tactical positions, though his squad tactics leave something to be desired (due to working alone majority of the time). In terms of morals, Marcus is about as neutral as anyone can get. He won’t look for solutions that endanger people, but he will resort to them if necessary. He isn’t likely to get involved in any situations where he would be taking initiative as a Good Samaritan either, though neither will he willingly play the role of ruffian.

Background: Marcus was born into the underworld of Pax. His mother, an entertainer, spent most of her time working, leaving Marcus in the hands of friends when he was a toddler. By the time he was roughly the age of six, Marcus was hanging around other kids almost constantly, rarely seeing his mother. He fell into the lifestyle of a large number of children referred to as ‘duct rats’. It was a precursor to gang life, and sometimes just as harsh. It was in this violent environment that Marcus spent his childhood years, until his mother met an eccentric, and moderately wealthy, boros male who became infatuated with her. The boros took them both off Pax, to a colonized boros world. Marcus was roughly the age of eleven at this time.

There Marcus was alone, singled out because he was human on an alien world. His adopted father spent much time with him, training him in the martial combat of the boros and teaching him many useful abilities that would cross over into the life he would later choose. The wide open rural planet was too quiet for Marcus, however. He learned to hunt, to track, to fight, and many other skills that would keep him busy, but he found himself missing the constant noise of Pax. It was a strange sensation, since he had loved moments of silence on Pax. The difference was, Pax was never deathly silent like the planet could be.

When he was roughly nineteen, his mother passed of an illness. It left Marcus no reason to remain on the planet. His stepfather understood, giving him some money to get him off-world, to go wherever he chose. Marcus spent a couple years learning skills he knew he would need to survive on Pax, skills the boros wouldn’t, and couldn’t, teach him; skills that involved firearms, explosives, and some knowledge of various tech devices. He returned to Pax at roughly twenty-one, using names he knew from his time on the boros colony-world to elevate himself above the typical human. After an orbital Pax year he managed to pull himself out of The Pit, and in another few was able to be in a place no human had known before; The Oracle.

Working for a well-off political and corporate family, with roots off-Pax, Marcus enjoyed many luxuries. He was a ‘runner’ for them. Learning more skills every Pax-Year, becoming a jack-of-all trades and useful in many situations. As they say though, nothing lasts forever. Tensions began to rise with his employers and several other groups, until it escalated in a scene that ended in a massive fight across a quarter of The Oracle. Escaping the disaster, Marcus ended up back in The Pit with nothing to his name. No money; just the clothes on his back and his pistol. Once again he was just another street urchin, a human nobody.

[quakernuts]

General Information:
Name: Louis Harbinger
Sex: Male
Ethnicity: Caucasian
Age: 21
Home Planet/Staion: Pax
Profession: Rookie Mercenary (Has an affinity for gunsmithing and explosives)

General Appearance:
Height: 6'0
Weight: 175 lbs.
Skin tone: White
Eye Colour: Sky Blue
Hair Colour: Red
Hair Style: Short and spiked up in the front.
Facial Hair: Small goatee

Face Structure:
General: Soft features, round face, overall untouched by battle or war.
Standout Features: Irises of eyes have a weird pattern to them, about four small, almost invisibile circles coming out from the center of his eye ending at the edge of the Iris.

Piercing(s):
-Left ear: Small red bead inserted into the earlobe.

Tattoo(s):
Torso: A fist sized tattoo...of a fist punching outwards just above his heart. Lettering in bold print underneath it say "SUPER PAWNCH"
Left arm: A barbed wire spiralling around his entire arm starting from his shoulder to his wrist.
Right arm: A tattoo made to look like a slit in his arm that reveals the inner workings to be that of a machine or robot. Starting from his shoulder and ending at his elbow.

Common Clothing:
- Torso: T-shirts of any kind
- Arms/Hands: Wears red fingerless gloves from time to time
- Legs/Feet: Blue jeans and white sneakers.

Armour:
- Armour Class: Orion Class 2 armour (Medium)
- Head: Vector Targetting visor. (Blue visor that crosses the eyes temple to temple providing aid in gunfights.)
- Torso: Reinforced Admantium plating.
- Arms/Hands: Reinforced Admantium plating gloves
- Legs/Feet: Reinforced Admantium plating leggings and boots.
- Colour scheme: Dark blue with black outlining and red integration lights in key areas of the armour. Mainly two on each side of the chest, one on each thigh, and one on each bicep.


Weapon(s):
- Main: K-45 automatic rifle with red dot sight.
- Side-arm: Druger High Velocity Pistol
- Melee: 12' Combat dagger.

Miscellaneous Gear:
-Backpack full of survival supplies, mainly extra food, water, and medical supplies.
-Communications device that attaches to his wrist
-Chemistry set

Personality: Louis Harbinger is kinder than most people would assume coming from a background that he is from, and going into a profession that he claims is "An amazing experience." With this kindness in heart, he can also be a bit naive, not always willing to make the hard decisions and believing in a code that has long been abandoned by most of the galactic population. When it comes to this, he can also be hard-headed, and quite stubborn once he has set his mind to something. More than once has he charged head first into something he didn't know the nature of, and more than once has it bitten him in the ass. With this comes a determination, and a firey nature that, despite what others believe, shines quite brightly through his armour.

Unfortunetly, he is not completely rightous. Having come from a rich family, he is accustomed to certain things people of the Pit simply don't have. During down times, especially when he is tired, slight amount of pompous arrogance can shine through, although he does control it very well. He is one of those kind souls with his fair share of faults, but faults that are not hidden. He is honest, open, kind, and a danger to those who would draw the attention of his determination.

Background: Louis grew up in the lofty side-panels of the station's Spire owned and operated by the many corporations. Louis's parents were fairly rich people, having high powered positions within corporations that gave them many benefits over the rest. Louis was spoiled from day one, but that seemed to have an opposite effect to him than it did to other kids. During his school years he was reported with having many fights, both verbal and physical with the other rich kids, along with simply refusing gifts from his parents outright. He became downright rebellious, and his high school years only made that worse. He was singled out, picked on, and nearly always the butt of a joke or fist. While Louis did have friends, they were not close nor were they helpful in any sort of situation he got himself into. His parents tried to make him see reason, to see his personality was ruining their relation with their partners in business. This talk didn't go over well. During his last year of high school, it seemed his parents were looking at him differently. It was like they were inspecting him rather than giving him a condescending glare all the time, but when he talked back to them, they always reverted back to their old selfs.

Louis couldn't be happier when he graduated, thankful to get the hell away from the assholes and bitches who thought they were better than he was. However, he knew what waited in store for him, and a couple weeks later he was working as a intern at his parent's workplace. Well, to say the least, his attitude didn't change and caused several problems along with an assault charge that was later dropped. Eventually Louis quit, and quickly went about doing things his way. He bought himself some armour, some weapons, minor training on how to handle said weapons and armour, and told him parents in full battle gear where he was going.

Their reaction to his living in the Pit was atypical of a pair of parents told their child has a terminal illness. They begged and pleaded that he stay, to which he could only reply that he didn't belong here. Down in the Pit where no one was better than anyone, where he could walk around with no fear of being judged, only shot. Eventually, without their consent, he made his way to the tram station, and descended into the pit where he quickly set about finding himself some work to do, and money to get on the table.

[Digital Muse]

General Information:
Name: Tia St. Jean
Sex: Female
Ethnicity: Human/French
Age: 261/ appears in her late 20s
Home Planet/Station: Nabillion sector of the Titan Minor galaxy
Profession: Naval Tech Specialist, Electronics and security systems, computer hacking

General Appearance:
Height: 5 feet 7 inches
Weight: 130 pounds
Skin tone: pale
Eye Colour: light brown
Hair Colour: dark brown
Hair Style: long, straight, tightly braided with a feathered bang swept to the right

Face Structure:
General: oval with a delicate jaw, but strong cheekbones.
Standout Features: high arched brows over cat-like eyes

Spoiler:

Piercing(s):
-Left ear: small silver hoop
-Right ear: small silver hoop

Scar(s):
Face: thin vertical scar through her left eyebrow
Torso: scarring from botched surgery to attach cybernetic arm (back and front)
Arms: left arm attached at shoulder

Common Clothing:
Head: none
Torso: dark blue-gray uniform top, dirty and missing a left arm. Stripes and patches of identification have been removed.
Arms/Hands: simple silver wedding band and a plain stainless steel bracelet
Legs/Feet: dark-gray uniform pants with a black stripe down the outside seam, black steel-toe uniform boots.

Armour:
- Armour Class:
- Head:
- Torso:
- Arms/Hands:
- Legs/Feet:
- Colour scheme:
- Installed Mod: Left arm and shoulder complete cybernetic replacement. Nanites have interwoven enhanced muscle fiber across her chest and back to support the additional weight and the strain she is now capable of exerting. She has grip strength capable of holding up to 1000 pounds and fine manipulation that exceeds human capability.
Because it is a new install, she feels a painful, itching sensation beneath her skin and has had little time to become comfortable with her new arm.

Weapon(s):
- Main:
- Sub:
- Side-arm:
- Explosives:
- Heavy:
- Melee:

Miscelaneous Gear: Old leather messenger bag of old leather, she carries schematics, dossiers on random people that interest her and personal items

Personality : Tia is a quiet and industrious worker with a solid sense of self. Having been born into the military ensured that she followed orders and understands the value of the chain of command in a well-ordered machine. She has a wry sense of humor and little gets her down. In general, obstacles are never insurmountable, people are never irredeemable and situations are never hopeless.

Background : Tia had been born into a military family from the Nabillion sector of the Titan Minor galaxy. As such, she also followed tradition and joined the Navy over 200 years ago. She did well, showed above average skills in the realm of technical surveillance, electronics and hacking. So much so, that she was tapped for a mission to join a insertion team in Naval Special Forces. She spent 5 years on dangerous cover missions, fighting side by side her crew, though her job was always the fine details and theirs usually involved keeping her alive.

On her last detail, her crew was aboard a highly classified experimental ship when they passed too close to a gas giant planet. It's intense gravitational pull literally stretch the ship's frame causing a malfunction in the ship's AI. Believing the crew were hostile forces, it attacked the crew and in the process, Tia lost an arm. To save her life, her Captain threw her bodily into a cryo tube and turned it on. She blacked out soon after.

Two hundred and thirty seven years later, she was wakened in a strange place and found herself fighting for her life all over again.

[Shadow Moonseye]

General Information:
Name: Sydney Palmer
Sex: Female
Ethnicity: Caucasian
Age: 35
Home Planet/Staion: Elios
Profession: Former Gunnery Sergeant in the Elios ODST

General Appearance:
Height: 5’11”
Weight: 178lbs
Skin tone: Fair
Eye Colour: Ice blue
Hair Colour: Dark brown
Hair Style: Buzz cut
Facial Hair: N/A

Face Structure:
General: Squared jaw structure, sharp, angular features
Standout Features: Piercing eyes

Piercing(s):
N/A

Tattoo(s):
Head/Neck: Encircling her neck is an inch thick collar like tattoo with a strange silvery-blue hue.
Torso: Running the length of her back a highly stylized tattoo of a spine
Right arm: Written on the inside of her forearm “War is my destiny.”, circling her wrist is an inch thick shackle like tattoo with a strange silvery-blue hue.
Left arm: Circling her wrist is an inch thick shackle like tattoo with a strange silvery-blue hue.

Scar(s):
Head/Neck: Three inch slash over her right eye, diagonal slash cuts through the right corner of her lips and down her chin
Torso: Two bullet scars on her lower stomach, numerous laceration scars of various shapes and sizes litter her torso
Right arm: Brand on the inside of the bicep which reads ODST, numerous laceration scars of various shapes and sizes litter her arm
Left arm: Large burn scar covers her shoulder and arm, numerous laceration scars of various shapes and sizes litter her arm
Right leg: numerous laceration scars of various shapes and sizes litter her leg
Left leg: One bullet scar on her thigh, numerous laceration scars of various shapes and sizes litter her leg

Common Clothing:
- Head: N/A
- Torso: Dark grey racer back half length tank top
- Arms/Hands: N/A
- Legs/Feet: Olive green cargo pants, black calf-length military style boots

Weapon(s):
- Main: Maroon sub-rifle
- Side-arm: T-47 'Mickey' Heavy pistol
- Melee: 9 inch improvised shank

Personality:
From the desk of Dr. Yeigh, Elios Special Forces Psychiatrist

Corporal Sydney Palmmer appears remarkably stable for one of her background--if not a bit temperamental. She gives a fearless, self assured vibe and thrives off challenge. Under stress she reacts exceptionally well, providing a stable foundation of calm that her comrades find reassuring. She demonstrates a willingness to follow orders to the letter; keeping to them with as little deviation as possible. She is a determined individual who lets nothing distract her from a goal. The Corporal has the rare ability to quickly assess a situation and make snap decisions where drawn out planning would be a mistake. She exhibits excellent leadership qualities and has the admiration of many of her fellows. Others depend on her ability, counting on her to not only get the job done, but do it well. I predict that she will be a rising star in the Orbital Drop Shock Troopers; it wouldn’t surprise me to see her speedily climb through the ranks.

However, there are a few traits that Corporal Palmmer shows that worry me. She is a woman of absolutes: In her eyes there is only right or wrong, good or bad, black and white; you either love or hate her. Earning her respect and trust appears to be a battle for even the most charming individual. Once earned though, she is very loyal--to a fault I might say. Outside of her friends and comrades she places a disconcerting de-emphasis on human life--a defense mechanism from her childhood no doubt. She is volatile and quick to anger, her record full of minor disciplinary infractions; each time she took her punishments with no protest so I view this as more of a point of interest than a worry. Soldiers have their own ways of solving their problems with each other behind closed doors.

All in all I would say that you would be hard pressed to find a better soldier. She has been and will no doubt continue to be an excellent addition to the ODST.

Background:
Born to unknown parents in Elios’s capital city, Sydney was dropped unceremoniously at an orphanage a few hours after birth. There was no identification on her -- birth records, hospital band, not even a trinket with an engraved name was present. The infant was brought in, named, and the required documents filled out. One more parentless child left among countless others.

Her early years were spent hopefully, wishing along with the other children that someone would come and take her away from the overcrowded rooms of the orphanage and give her a real home. As she grew older, the hope faded. The young girl wasn’t like the other girls. She preferred the rough play of the boys; choosing cops and robbers and skinned knees over tea parties and rag dollies. Growing older found her becoming frustrated, and she began fighting. She refused to answer to Sydney, instead wanting to be called Sid. Where other girls wore their hair long, she wore hers short in boyish styles. She fought more, and was disobedient. Countless hours were spent in time outs, separated from others, and being punished.

At the age of 12 Sid decided that she was never going to be adopted and that six years was far too long to wait to be able to leave. She started looking for ways out. Running away never worked and she wasn’t old enough to get a job yet. She wasn’t desperate enough to try looking for less legal means of escape. The years passed, and on the eve of her 16th birthday an idea struck her: Military recruiters often came to the orphanage looking for more bodies for the war. If she could lie about her age…

The next month found Sid in the middle of the group of orphans talking with the recruiters. At the first opportunity she signed the papers that would change her life. Whether the recruiters turned a blind eye to the desperate girl’s lie or were fooled by her proclamation, Sid would never know. That same day she gathered her few possessions and left the hell hole that had been her home for the past 16 years behind without a backwards glance.

Once in boot, she dove into the military life, relishing in the daily challenges her body and mind were put through. Over the next five years she thrived in the FRAF, striving to be the best she could. She still fought, but the fights were more infrequent than her days at the orphanage. She even made a few friends. Shortly after her 21st birthday, Sid was recruited into the ODST, some faceless higher-up seeing great potential in the young woman. She threw herself into the intensive training program, determined to graduate at the top of her class. The journey wasn’t without mishaps though. On her first jump she earned the massive scar that covers most of her right arm and shoulder. She failed to properly check her armor pre-jump and upon re-entry it malfunctioned. The heat fused the armor to her flesh. It was a painful lesson, and since that day Sid has made it a point to clean and maintain her armor daily. Though the accident set her back several months, she still managed to graduate in the top five and become a full fledged member of Elios’s fabled ODST.

Over the next nine years she climbed through the ranks and made quite the name for herself amongst the shock troopers. She took part in many battles on Veoir and its moons, pushing hard for victory despite overwhelming odds. Two years ago the war took a turn for the worst, and Elios steadily began losing ground. Each battle was hard fought and despite all efforts and the ferocity of its soldiers, they were pushed back to their world. Six months ago, Elios’s moon fell, and Sid was one of the last soldiers to see Hera under the Eliosian flag.

Four months ago, Gunnery Sergeant Sydney Palmmer saw her last battle on Elios. She stayed behind to buy the survivors of her team time to escape the approaching Veoir troops. She was subsequently captured and taken as a prisoner of war. Two weeks later she was loaded up with a large batch of POWs and began the trip to Veoir. Three months ago the transport vessel was attacked and seized by human slavers. Three weeks ago, the slavers sold their cargo to brokers across Pax.

Sid wound up in one of the larger slave brokers in the Pit. She has yet to be sold, being one of the strongest willed slaves to date, there has been little success in breaking her.

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