Daniel_Eden
Bae Supreme #1
Steam Name / Steam ID : Daniel Sexbangiel
How long have you played on the server?: About two or three weeks, maybe a month, most of which would be from when I wake up to when I sleep.
Characters name/nicknames: Zolan'Zoldan vas Zolfeen
Characters Race: Quarian
Requested position aboard the ship: Engineer.
Specific equipment, weaponry, gear, and/or abilities:
Two Weeks Prior: A New Life
"I d-don-n't wanna go!"
"I'm sorry, Zolan, but it's for the best. Please understand."
"B-B-B-But-t-t-"
"You are going to be an engineer for another ship. No talking back. . . We're going to miss you. . ."
The two Quarian's talking shook hands for a moment, the one requested to leave heading off to the hanger for transport. This Quarian in question sported a white and red detailed Enviro-Suit, Their visor being completely white, except for their eyes which were a deep lavender color. If one were to listen to them speak, they would first notice that their voice sounded as if they were still in their teens. The next thing they would notice is his stutter, then asking themselves 'why didn't I notice that first?'
None of these things, for the moment, seemed to matter though, as the young Zolan had arrived at his destination, a small vessel already being prepared for him, two blue suited Quarians standing on either side of the door. They would give him the standard Quarian salute, moving further away from the door of the small ship as Zolan would enter, the engines whurring and roaring. Time to start a new life, he thought to himself.
Eighteen years earlier: The Changing of Tides
Everything seemed so calm. The Crew was working effortlessly, the ship was in near-perfect condition, and the children on board were playing. All but one, who seemed smaller than the rest of their supposed 'friends'. This young Quarian boy was sitting by himself in a secluded corner, tinkering and fiddling with a small, electronic device. They seemed awfully distant compared to the other children, it seemed, though they wouldn't know it. This young child was far too busy with his 'work', that being creating a toy that will never get boring.
It was at this point, however, that a group of young boys came up to him, surrounding him entirely.
"Look here, guys. Short stack here doesn't want to play. What's wrong, Little Guy? Come on!" One of them would say, grabbing this project out of 'Little Guys' hands. Said Little Guy looked up, seemingly hurt they would tease and taunt him for not doing what they wanted. Not more than five seconds later, this device was thrown down and stomped on repeatedly, breaking into tiny pieces.
"There! Now you have to come play!" They would say, looking quite smug underneath their visor. Little Guy didn't say anything, but instead stared at them, as if peering into their very soul. Chuckling, all of the boys would walk away, leaving this child by himself. It didn't take very long. Not long at all before they would start crying- Weeping- like they had just been born. A nearby woman just-so happened to hear this, coming to check on the noise.
"Oh, Zolan! What on Earth are you doing here?" She would ask, looking down and seeing the scene in front of her. "Oooh. I see. Well, nothing we can't fix. Come along, my precious star. I will help you fix it." She would tell him, reaching down before grabbing his hand, the leaning further to salvage the remains of Zolan's invention, leading him off.
"Thank you, Mother. . . " The young boy would respond.
The two walked off, hand in hand, the young boy smiling under his visor as his mother would regal him with stories to distract his mind from the events that unfolded just moments before.
"Yes, my child. That is why we now love on ships, but do not worry. One day we shall return home, and you shall do great things. This, I know. Now come along. I'll even let you help me clean that rifle you love so much." She would say in a loving tone. Zolan did like to help his mother when he could, and now instead of sadness and sorrow, he felt happiness and elation.
Six years Earlier: Teeeeen-HUT!
Murmuring echoed throughout the large, cleared out storage area. Many young Quarian's, male and female alike, had been gathered in this area, and soon the reason why appeared. The Captain of the ship had arrived: Zolan's mother. She marched right in with four soldiers, looking at every single body in the room.
"Form up! Get into rows! I want five perfect, symmetrically pleasing rows right the hell now!" She shouted, every young man and woman scrambling to form lines. . . It took five. Minutes. Needless to say, she was not pleased. . .
"Awful! Terrible! Horrible! Do it again!" She yelled, and they did it again- and again. . . And again. . . The Whole day was them forming ranks until they took less than thirty seconds.
"Alright! Enough. Let me tell you right now. . . You are going to be trained rigorously for the next four years, understand? Every single day. Every single MOMENT, even when you sleep, you got it? You're going to be training as you work on this ship. You are going to train while using the can. You will be training so hard, you will forget what sleep even is- And NOBODY is going to be given special treatment! Understood? Good. Laps. GO!" And everybody did. They did for twenty four hours straight, given one day to rest, and then repeating the process for four years. Good thing, too. The future, unbeknownst, was tragic and relentless.
One Year Prior: It's a Trap!
All was normal for the Quarian's inhabiting the vessel. Work, chat, work, chat, shift rotation, work, chat- The cycle repeated itself over and over each and every day. Zolan was working with two other Quarians, monitoring and maintaining the ship's engine. One would check it's exterior, one would monitor it's power input and output, and Zolan had the wonderful duty of checking it's guts, carefully examining the whurring, roaring, and pumping engine. Everything seemed quite alright. Perfect, some would say. Of course, the red emergency lights seemed to put a small damper on the day of every being aboard the vessel.
Every single member of the 'Zolfeen's fleet scrambled, picking up and equipping every single item, weapon, and piece of armor they could find to defend themselves with. The three who had been with the engine, however, would find that they were worse off than the rest. In the mere minute that the sirens had been going off, a single human male had seemed to have infiltrated into the block. The three stared at him. He stared at them. They stared. He slowly reached for the pistol on his hip. They scrambled for cover. The human opened fire, hot lead blasting from his weapon.
One Quarian seemed to had found cover right behind the engine. Another Quarian had managed to find solace after a small table that had been located inside- likely to put tools on- was flipped over. It was too late for that young being, though, as a bullet had grazed him, causing a small rip on the shoulder of their black suit. Hope was lost for this one. Zolan, on the other hand, managed to find a good bit of cover on the other side of the door leading to the engine. This was good, because simple pistol bullets could penetrate thick walls of ship material.
'Think', this young man thought. 'Just one. Should be easy. Just need a-' His thought wouldn't finish as a female ran past him. Mother. Before he could say anything, she handed him a weapon. A long-barreled rifle. In fact, it looked like the one he had helped maintain all of these years. . .
"W-Wait! What're you handing mme this for?!" The young man would ask frantically. He didn't get a reply. Instead, his Mother leaned in, pressing her visor against his, whispering something she had always told him: 'Find Courage, My Son', before running off deeper into the belly of the ship. He was torn. On one hand, he wanted to go with he, making sure she would stay safe from harms way. On the other hand, he had two other members of the crew to help and save. . . Cursing under his breath, the door to the Engine Room opened, more gunshots resounding from inside. A deep breath, and in they went, soon finding the shooter had turned their attention to him.
Same Day, a Minute After Entry: Metal Gear Quarian
As soon as the young boy had found cover, he looked to his right. There was his crew mate, a bullet wound through their head and chest. It took every ounce of willpower he had not to vomit right on the spot, instead saying a silent prayer and vowing to bring justice to the one who did this. Currently, the Quarian only had the rifle and their tool belt on them, the belt filled with the standard tools one would need to fix or take apart anything they needed. He had an idea, taking the wrench from his belt and chucking it over cover, a rain of bullets shooting as it flew over.
Time to move.
Zolan slowly crept to a small tool closet that had been unused for quite some time, laying vertically on the ground. Slowly, they opened it up, climbed inside, and laid in wait, their weapon aimed at the top of the locker. Now, he needed to wait quietly, and so he did. It didn't take long for the perp to roam, trying to find the last body to drop. Slowly. . . Calmly. . . Finger on the trigger. . . As the human turned his back to the locker, Zolan would slowly rise from it, taking aim right at their back, finger gently squeezing the trigger. . . And then the Human turned around, seeming surprised to see them with a gun aimed at them. They aimed at Zolan, and- A loud 'BOOM' filled the air as one of the two men dropped. . .
Same Day: Half-an-hour later: 'Find Courage, My Son'.
The door of the engine block opened, a figure stepping out of the frame.
"Where is Mother?" A young Quarian would ask another rushing by, their body shaking lightly from the anxiety they recently found themselves in. The asked Quarian looked over this young boy's shoulder, seeing two Quarian and a human male dead, the Quarians dying from blood loss and bullet wounds, while the human had a rather large hope right in the center of their abdomen.
"Well, she went to the bridge, being the Captain and all, but. . . Head to the medical wing." They would say, storming off to quell the rest of the boarding party. Zolan said absolutely nothing, merely running as fast as he could- as if he were being chased by Death itself-, heading down flights of stairs, pushing past other members of the crew, and even shooting a couple of hostiles before bursting into the Medical Wing of the ship, eyes darting too and fro until he say her. . . With a bullet wound right where her lungs would be.
Rushing over, the son dropped his rifle right at the edge of the bed, leaning down and caressing the visor of their Mother.
"Mother. . . You're going to be fine, alright? Come on. We need to help the ship." He would say, almost pleading with her to stay. Her hand slowly rose, taking his own and holding it to her heart.
"I love you so, so much. . . Remember. . ." She would say, trailing off as blood slowly began filling her lungs and her eyes began to grow dim.
"F-Find Courage. . . My. . . S-son-n. . ." And like that, she passed out. the doctors on the ship pushing him away to operate on her. He couldn't speak for a solid minute, it seemed, his mind trying so very hard to process what was going on. . . Only for him to break down, every ounce of frustration pouring out of him in the form of liquid sorrow.
"Y-You can't-t die, Moth-ther. . . We have-ve s-so much t-to. . . T-T-To. . ." He simply couldn't finish his sentence, resigning to weeping as he watched these men and woman attempt to stabilize and return consciousness to his mother, but the damage was done. In this event, he wouldn't know, but everything he knew would change. . .
Six Months Prior: 'Awaken, My Love!'
Time had passed. The crew had grown up, the ship had had many improvements thanks to the thoughtful innovation of one young, stuttering young man, and things seemed to be looking up all around. In fact, the young man who had been so key in improving their defenses was- Asleep. That son of a fuck was asleep in a chair right inside of his station- Until he was tapped right on the visor, startling him awake.
"H-Huh? What?" He would say groggily, looking around to see nobody there aside from his mother. . . HIS MOTHER. . . That boy fell right out of his chair, quickly rising to salute his mother."G-Good evening, C-Captain!" He would sputter out.
"At ease." She would tell him, pulling him into a good ol' motherly pat on the back. "I have a gift for you." She would say, snapping her fingers as two soldiers walked in, saluting their Captain and handing over a long, shoddily-wrapped, object, which was then handed from Mother to Son, and then quickly unwrapped. It was the same rifle from years ago. . .
". . . Th-thank you, Mother- I-I-I mean Captain. . ." He would say, looking it over. It seemed pretty standard, except for the words she would always say to him would be carved on the barrel.
"Well, I thought since you just finished your pilgrimage and returned the other day. . ." Captain-Mom would say, sort of being bashful on the topic. No words were exchanged for a good wile. . .
"Thank y-you. . . I mean-n it. . ."
Five days prior: And that Stuttering Engineers Name Is. . .
It was surely busy on the Citadel today. People were chatting, friends were laughing, vendors were arguing, and a lone Quarian stood between it all, looking absolutely stunned in the current situation he was in. There were so many people. . . Far more than what was on his Homeship. Gulping down saliva that had been building up, they made their way to the docking stations, eyes down and body slouched the entire time.
Later that day. . .
"'Ey! Ya can't just exit tha ship, Drell! You gotta get ya bag checked out afore ya-" The foreman seemed to be yelling at an uncooperative traveler, thought the young, white-clad, Quarian who was approaching. Odd, he soon thought after. That Drell was wearing a doctor's coat. . . You would think he'd be more. . . Not like he is. Shrugging, Zolan approached.
"God damn mug, runnin' off like tha- Huh? Who are ya supposed ta be, kid?" The angry foreman- a Turian- would ask.
"I'm. . . Zolan'Z-Zoldan vas Zolf-feen. I was sup-posed to come here t-to catch a vessel t-to an Allience V-Vessel?"
"Yeah, yeah. Hold on, kid. Lemme check. . ." The Turian would reply, unclipping a clipboard from his belt and checking names. "Hmm. . . Yup. Alright. Got ya right here. Climb aboard, bucko." They would say, moving out of the way as Zolan the Quarian would sling his satchel over his shoulders, walking aboard the ship that was to bring him to his new life.
Three days prior: "My nam-me is-"
The hissing and clunking of an airlock closing resonated through the entire ship, a single being standing in front of it. This was it, hm? The Centurion. . . His new home. It seemed like it was in pretty good condition, he though, taking a quick look around. No visible damages. . . It sounded like it was running fine. . . Well, in time he would be sure to fix whatever it was that would break. For now, the one who would be known as Zolan'Zoldan vas Zolfeen would make his way up the stairs, hesitantly looking around at every moment he would get.
It was then that a single female- a human- would notice them walking to the top floor of the vessel, waving him down before approaching him.
"Huh. Never seen you around before. Either you can hide real well, or you literally just got here. You got a name?" She would ask of him.
"Yes. . . I'm Zolan-n'Zoldan-n vas Zolfeen-n. . . It's a pleasure to meet you."
This woman would soon become his best friend, though he didn't know it, and his life would be changed drastically upon this ship, for better or for worse.
What is your character's goal aboard the ship?: To travel to new places, see new faces, and hopefully lose their stutter. Hopefully.
Why were they hired by PTFC? : Because they seemed like a decent enough engineer to hire, plus the ship he would be assigned to would need an engineer.
How long have you played on the server?: About two or three weeks, maybe a month, most of which would be from when I wake up to when I sleep.
Characters name/nicknames: Zolan'Zoldan vas Zolfeen
Characters Race: Quarian
Requested position aboard the ship: Engineer.
Specific equipment, weaponry, gear, and/or abilities:
- M-92 Mantis with 'Find Courage, My Son' engraved on the barrel
- Toolbelt with a screwdriver, wrench, some spare wires, and other tools.
- Hella omni-gel
- Armor: Colored Brown with yellow trimming and highlights
- Chemlight attachment on the armor
- Lawful Good, "Crusader"
- Neutral Good, "Benefactor"
- Chaotic Good, "Rebel"
- Lawful Neutral, "Judge"
- Neutral, "Undecided"
- Chaotic Neutral, "Free Spirit"
- Lawful Evil, "Dominator"
- Neutral Evil, "Malefactor"
- Chaotic Evil, "Lucifer"
Two Weeks Prior: A New Life
"I d-don-n't wanna go!"
"I'm sorry, Zolan, but it's for the best. Please understand."
"B-B-B-But-t-t-"
"You are going to be an engineer for another ship. No talking back. . . We're going to miss you. . ."
The two Quarian's talking shook hands for a moment, the one requested to leave heading off to the hanger for transport. This Quarian in question sported a white and red detailed Enviro-Suit, Their visor being completely white, except for their eyes which were a deep lavender color. If one were to listen to them speak, they would first notice that their voice sounded as if they were still in their teens. The next thing they would notice is his stutter, then asking themselves 'why didn't I notice that first?'
None of these things, for the moment, seemed to matter though, as the young Zolan had arrived at his destination, a small vessel already being prepared for him, two blue suited Quarians standing on either side of the door. They would give him the standard Quarian salute, moving further away from the door of the small ship as Zolan would enter, the engines whurring and roaring. Time to start a new life, he thought to himself.
Eighteen years earlier: The Changing of Tides
Everything seemed so calm. The Crew was working effortlessly, the ship was in near-perfect condition, and the children on board were playing. All but one, who seemed smaller than the rest of their supposed 'friends'. This young Quarian boy was sitting by himself in a secluded corner, tinkering and fiddling with a small, electronic device. They seemed awfully distant compared to the other children, it seemed, though they wouldn't know it. This young child was far too busy with his 'work', that being creating a toy that will never get boring.
It was at this point, however, that a group of young boys came up to him, surrounding him entirely.
"Look here, guys. Short stack here doesn't want to play. What's wrong, Little Guy? Come on!" One of them would say, grabbing this project out of 'Little Guys' hands. Said Little Guy looked up, seemingly hurt they would tease and taunt him for not doing what they wanted. Not more than five seconds later, this device was thrown down and stomped on repeatedly, breaking into tiny pieces.
"There! Now you have to come play!" They would say, looking quite smug underneath their visor. Little Guy didn't say anything, but instead stared at them, as if peering into their very soul. Chuckling, all of the boys would walk away, leaving this child by himself. It didn't take very long. Not long at all before they would start crying- Weeping- like they had just been born. A nearby woman just-so happened to hear this, coming to check on the noise.
"Oh, Zolan! What on Earth are you doing here?" She would ask, looking down and seeing the scene in front of her. "Oooh. I see. Well, nothing we can't fix. Come along, my precious star. I will help you fix it." She would tell him, reaching down before grabbing his hand, the leaning further to salvage the remains of Zolan's invention, leading him off.
"Thank you, Mother. . . " The young boy would respond.
The two walked off, hand in hand, the young boy smiling under his visor as his mother would regal him with stories to distract his mind from the events that unfolded just moments before.
"Yes, my child. That is why we now love on ships, but do not worry. One day we shall return home, and you shall do great things. This, I know. Now come along. I'll even let you help me clean that rifle you love so much." She would say in a loving tone. Zolan did like to help his mother when he could, and now instead of sadness and sorrow, he felt happiness and elation.
Six years Earlier: Teeeeen-HUT!
Murmuring echoed throughout the large, cleared out storage area. Many young Quarian's, male and female alike, had been gathered in this area, and soon the reason why appeared. The Captain of the ship had arrived: Zolan's mother. She marched right in with four soldiers, looking at every single body in the room.
"Form up! Get into rows! I want five perfect, symmetrically pleasing rows right the hell now!" She shouted, every young man and woman scrambling to form lines. . . It took five. Minutes. Needless to say, she was not pleased. . .
"Awful! Terrible! Horrible! Do it again!" She yelled, and they did it again- and again. . . And again. . . The Whole day was them forming ranks until they took less than thirty seconds.
"Alright! Enough. Let me tell you right now. . . You are going to be trained rigorously for the next four years, understand? Every single day. Every single MOMENT, even when you sleep, you got it? You're going to be training as you work on this ship. You are going to train while using the can. You will be training so hard, you will forget what sleep even is- And NOBODY is going to be given special treatment! Understood? Good. Laps. GO!" And everybody did. They did for twenty four hours straight, given one day to rest, and then repeating the process for four years. Good thing, too. The future, unbeknownst, was tragic and relentless.
One Year Prior: It's a Trap!
All was normal for the Quarian's inhabiting the vessel. Work, chat, work, chat, shift rotation, work, chat- The cycle repeated itself over and over each and every day. Zolan was working with two other Quarians, monitoring and maintaining the ship's engine. One would check it's exterior, one would monitor it's power input and output, and Zolan had the wonderful duty of checking it's guts, carefully examining the whurring, roaring, and pumping engine. Everything seemed quite alright. Perfect, some would say. Of course, the red emergency lights seemed to put a small damper on the day of every being aboard the vessel.
Every single member of the 'Zolfeen's fleet scrambled, picking up and equipping every single item, weapon, and piece of armor they could find to defend themselves with. The three who had been with the engine, however, would find that they were worse off than the rest. In the mere minute that the sirens had been going off, a single human male had seemed to have infiltrated into the block. The three stared at him. He stared at them. They stared. He slowly reached for the pistol on his hip. They scrambled for cover. The human opened fire, hot lead blasting from his weapon.
One Quarian seemed to had found cover right behind the engine. Another Quarian had managed to find solace after a small table that had been located inside- likely to put tools on- was flipped over. It was too late for that young being, though, as a bullet had grazed him, causing a small rip on the shoulder of their black suit. Hope was lost for this one. Zolan, on the other hand, managed to find a good bit of cover on the other side of the door leading to the engine. This was good, because simple pistol bullets could penetrate thick walls of ship material.
'Think', this young man thought. 'Just one. Should be easy. Just need a-' His thought wouldn't finish as a female ran past him. Mother. Before he could say anything, she handed him a weapon. A long-barreled rifle. In fact, it looked like the one he had helped maintain all of these years. . .
"W-Wait! What're you handing mme this for?!" The young man would ask frantically. He didn't get a reply. Instead, his Mother leaned in, pressing her visor against his, whispering something she had always told him: 'Find Courage, My Son', before running off deeper into the belly of the ship. He was torn. On one hand, he wanted to go with he, making sure she would stay safe from harms way. On the other hand, he had two other members of the crew to help and save. . . Cursing under his breath, the door to the Engine Room opened, more gunshots resounding from inside. A deep breath, and in they went, soon finding the shooter had turned their attention to him.
Same Day, a Minute After Entry: Metal Gear Quarian
As soon as the young boy had found cover, he looked to his right. There was his crew mate, a bullet wound through their head and chest. It took every ounce of willpower he had not to vomit right on the spot, instead saying a silent prayer and vowing to bring justice to the one who did this. Currently, the Quarian only had the rifle and their tool belt on them, the belt filled with the standard tools one would need to fix or take apart anything they needed. He had an idea, taking the wrench from his belt and chucking it over cover, a rain of bullets shooting as it flew over.
Time to move.
Zolan slowly crept to a small tool closet that had been unused for quite some time, laying vertically on the ground. Slowly, they opened it up, climbed inside, and laid in wait, their weapon aimed at the top of the locker. Now, he needed to wait quietly, and so he did. It didn't take long for the perp to roam, trying to find the last body to drop. Slowly. . . Calmly. . . Finger on the trigger. . . As the human turned his back to the locker, Zolan would slowly rise from it, taking aim right at their back, finger gently squeezing the trigger. . . And then the Human turned around, seeming surprised to see them with a gun aimed at them. They aimed at Zolan, and- A loud 'BOOM' filled the air as one of the two men dropped. . .
Same Day: Half-an-hour later: 'Find Courage, My Son'.
The door of the engine block opened, a figure stepping out of the frame.
"Where is Mother?" A young Quarian would ask another rushing by, their body shaking lightly from the anxiety they recently found themselves in. The asked Quarian looked over this young boy's shoulder, seeing two Quarian and a human male dead, the Quarians dying from blood loss and bullet wounds, while the human had a rather large hope right in the center of their abdomen.
"Well, she went to the bridge, being the Captain and all, but. . . Head to the medical wing." They would say, storming off to quell the rest of the boarding party. Zolan said absolutely nothing, merely running as fast as he could- as if he were being chased by Death itself-, heading down flights of stairs, pushing past other members of the crew, and even shooting a couple of hostiles before bursting into the Medical Wing of the ship, eyes darting too and fro until he say her. . . With a bullet wound right where her lungs would be.
Rushing over, the son dropped his rifle right at the edge of the bed, leaning down and caressing the visor of their Mother.
"Mother. . . You're going to be fine, alright? Come on. We need to help the ship." He would say, almost pleading with her to stay. Her hand slowly rose, taking his own and holding it to her heart.
"I love you so, so much. . . Remember. . ." She would say, trailing off as blood slowly began filling her lungs and her eyes began to grow dim.
"F-Find Courage. . . My. . . S-son-n. . ." And like that, she passed out. the doctors on the ship pushing him away to operate on her. He couldn't speak for a solid minute, it seemed, his mind trying so very hard to process what was going on. . . Only for him to break down, every ounce of frustration pouring out of him in the form of liquid sorrow.
"Y-You can't-t die, Moth-ther. . . We have-ve s-so much t-to. . . T-T-To. . ." He simply couldn't finish his sentence, resigning to weeping as he watched these men and woman attempt to stabilize and return consciousness to his mother, but the damage was done. In this event, he wouldn't know, but everything he knew would change. . .
Six Months Prior: 'Awaken, My Love!'
Time had passed. The crew had grown up, the ship had had many improvements thanks to the thoughtful innovation of one young, stuttering young man, and things seemed to be looking up all around. In fact, the young man who had been so key in improving their defenses was- Asleep. That son of a fuck was asleep in a chair right inside of his station- Until he was tapped right on the visor, startling him awake.
"H-Huh? What?" He would say groggily, looking around to see nobody there aside from his mother. . . HIS MOTHER. . . That boy fell right out of his chair, quickly rising to salute his mother."G-Good evening, C-Captain!" He would sputter out.
"At ease." She would tell him, pulling him into a good ol' motherly pat on the back. "I have a gift for you." She would say, snapping her fingers as two soldiers walked in, saluting their Captain and handing over a long, shoddily-wrapped, object, which was then handed from Mother to Son, and then quickly unwrapped. It was the same rifle from years ago. . .
". . . Th-thank you, Mother- I-I-I mean Captain. . ." He would say, looking it over. It seemed pretty standard, except for the words she would always say to him would be carved on the barrel.
"Well, I thought since you just finished your pilgrimage and returned the other day. . ." Captain-Mom would say, sort of being bashful on the topic. No words were exchanged for a good wile. . .
"Thank y-you. . . I mean-n it. . ."
Five days prior: And that Stuttering Engineers Name Is. . .
It was surely busy on the Citadel today. People were chatting, friends were laughing, vendors were arguing, and a lone Quarian stood between it all, looking absolutely stunned in the current situation he was in. There were so many people. . . Far more than what was on his Homeship. Gulping down saliva that had been building up, they made their way to the docking stations, eyes down and body slouched the entire time.
Later that day. . .
"'Ey! Ya can't just exit tha ship, Drell! You gotta get ya bag checked out afore ya-" The foreman seemed to be yelling at an uncooperative traveler, thought the young, white-clad, Quarian who was approaching. Odd, he soon thought after. That Drell was wearing a doctor's coat. . . You would think he'd be more. . . Not like he is. Shrugging, Zolan approached.
"God damn mug, runnin' off like tha- Huh? Who are ya supposed ta be, kid?" The angry foreman- a Turian- would ask.
"I'm. . . Zolan'Z-Zoldan vas Zolf-feen. I was sup-posed to come here t-to catch a vessel t-to an Allience V-Vessel?"
"Yeah, yeah. Hold on, kid. Lemme check. . ." The Turian would reply, unclipping a clipboard from his belt and checking names. "Hmm. . . Yup. Alright. Got ya right here. Climb aboard, bucko." They would say, moving out of the way as Zolan the Quarian would sling his satchel over his shoulders, walking aboard the ship that was to bring him to his new life.
Three days prior: "My nam-me is-"
The hissing and clunking of an airlock closing resonated through the entire ship, a single being standing in front of it. This was it, hm? The Centurion. . . His new home. It seemed like it was in pretty good condition, he though, taking a quick look around. No visible damages. . . It sounded like it was running fine. . . Well, in time he would be sure to fix whatever it was that would break. For now, the one who would be known as Zolan'Zoldan vas Zolfeen would make his way up the stairs, hesitantly looking around at every moment he would get.
It was then that a single female- a human- would notice them walking to the top floor of the vessel, waving him down before approaching him.
"Huh. Never seen you around before. Either you can hide real well, or you literally just got here. You got a name?" She would ask of him.
"Yes. . . I'm Zolan-n'Zoldan-n vas Zolfeen-n. . . It's a pleasure to meet you."
This woman would soon become his best friend, though he didn't know it, and his life would be changed drastically upon this ship, for better or for worse.
What is your character's goal aboard the ship?: To travel to new places, see new faces, and hopefully lose their stutter. Hopefully.
Why were they hired by PTFC? : Because they seemed like a decent enough engineer to hire, plus the ship he would be assigned to would need an engineer.
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![[OMFL] Z](/data/avatars/m/1/1671.jpg?1503256134){kind=avatar}