#shepardscrew

[serethanekrios]

Olivia scrolls through the datapad looking over the patient file, she hadn’t had much experience with drell or their biology. So when she was requested from the docks to come and look at the drell patient she took a pause before accepting the new learning opportunity.

She made her way to Huerta Memorial Hospital, her hand brushing the loose strands of brown hair from her face to behind her ear. Her eyes look up from the datapad as her hand reaches for the ID badge in her pocket so she could show it to the front desk.

Olivia greets the front desk attendant showing her badge before clipping it to her chest and turning to look for the her newest patient. Her eyes scan the lobby until she comes across a drell, shadow boxing near the large bay windows. She rolls her shoulders back straightening her posture before walking towards the drell.

“Mr. Nuara I presume?” She states lowering the datapad to her side, a warm smile curling her lips. “I’m Doctor Spencer, I will be your doctor while you remain here at the hospital.”

He stared out the large hospital window, sifting through the memories of the battles he’d faced with Shepard, his son’s disappointment in him for joining her instead of staying with him. A part of him had wanted to stay, he had so much to make up for and he knew he wouldn’t have long to do so. But how could he live with himself if he stood by and did nothing while the collectors wiped out a race of beings? His body began practicing maneuvers on auto-pilot. He had to keep fit, stay as healthy as he could until time took what little he had away from him.  He watched the vessel arrivals and departures, he wanted to be out there. This new battle had far more dire consequences to them all. And all he had the strength left to do is watch it unfold. He had so much more to make up for and his body was failing him. At least he had this time with his son. He might not be able to save his son from what may come, but at least, for once in his misbegotten life, he would be there for him..with him. He blinked as the voice pulled him from his thoughts. He had been caught unaware and that was not acceptable, Alias or not, there were a lot of enemies that would try to take him out if the discovered who he was. His memories would have to wait for a more private setting. He turned to face the woman who had called out his name, drew his hands behind and inclined his head to er. “You are correct. I am Tannor Nuara. I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Dr. Spencer. I apologize if my early arrive has inconvenienced you.”

[serethanekrios]

His OT winked out and he released a breath. He prayed to Amonkira to guide him. He looked longingly at his pistol and rifle, but the citadel frowned on citizens carrying weapons. When he was a part of Shepard’s crew, it was overlooked, but that life was in his past. 

He removed his leisure suit and slipped into his leathers. He did not wear them as often anymore, but the comfortable feel of the form fitting material brought a smile to his lips, like welcoming home an old friend. He slipped a pair of knives into the inner lining of his jacket, The familiar press of them against his skin almost made him feel like the warrior he used to be. 

One of his contacts had alerted him about the arrival of an assassin by the name of Crypt who had been asking around the docks for a drell by the name of Thane Krios. He did not think those who knew his real name would turn, that was not what he feared. He feared the man would learn of his son. That he would not let happen. This was his problem to contend with. 

Slipping around the dock’s surveillance cameras would not be an issue and there were plenty of out of the way or hidden areas to draw the krogan out of sight. 

He slid through the dock’s shadows and caught sight of a large, armored krogan questioning refuges. He moved into the light, stopped at the memorial wall, prayed and then continued on deeper into the docks. He knew the moment the krogan began to follow him. The hunt was on. He lured the krogan towards some rows of large containers with a dark alleyway between them. He took a right and slipped into the shadows. 

A couple of kids looked at him in surprise and then darted around him and back into the light. He squatted down, cloaked himself in shadow and bowed his head to Arashu, asking for her protection to anyone who chanced upon them.

He remained motionless as the krogan walked past him. When enough distance passed he rose. The krogan turned, pulled a hidden pistol, the tthk of the silencer was all that could be heard. Thane threw himself to the side, amped his biotics and threw a small crate towards the krogan. The bullet lodged into the crate moments before it impacted the krogan and sent his pistol skittering into the shadows. The krogan roared and charged. He sprinted towards the krogan and dove, rolling into his lower legs. Momentum took the krogan onward a few steps before he fell forward, catching his fall with his hands. 

Thane spun a kick, but the krogan was already rising and all it did was spin him around to face him. When the krogan charged again, he held his ground, leapt away at the last moment, twisted his body and sent a blow to the side of the krogan’s neck. The krogan roared and he sent another blow into the opposite side of his thick neck. He was beginning to feel the toll the battle was taking on his weakened body. He ran at the container, took a few steps up its side and pushed off, propelling himself towards the  krogan that was trying to catch his breath.  He grabbed hold of the armor near the krogan’s head and flipped around the large body. The krogan spun with the momentum and landed on his back. He grasped the hidden hilts and spun the knives; twin blades drove down, sinking deep into the krogan’s beady little eyes.

He stumbled back a step, bent over from his excursions. He weakly retrieved the knives, wiped them on the krogan’s armor and slipped them back into their sheathes. As he raised his hands to pray to Kalahira, his vision faded and darkness greeted him.

[cleanwaterplease-blog]

Excited to be playing the part of french patron wearing a mustache in this year's play "One Holy Night" with Jacob. 😇 #letsdothis #rehearsals #shepardscrew #godisgood #kingofkings (at Westlake Village, California) https://www.instagram.com/p/Bq8pqeZh2si/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=12uvcbkgjie6e

[cleanwaterplease-blog]

"But the Lord is with me like a MIGHTY warrior!" Jeremiah 20:11 #heavyweightchamp #toddmedina #lovewins #godisgood #shepardscrew (at Thousand Oaks, California) https://www.instagram.com/p/BpTMEUJhMig/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1syqpoq7wbmqc

[vatre]

Arwin’s hands cup her hot drink as she sat by herself watching the various races move about on the Citadel. Her fused fingers scratch and pick at the side of the cup, her eyes setting on a peach coloured drell a few tables away. She blinks slowly tipping her head slightly finding him curious. He was larger than most drell she had seen and aside from this peach drell, she hadn’t seen many drell on the Citadel.  Her attention was pulled from the drell to a quarian and turian walk by, the two holding hands and the quarian giggling.

Her lips twitch slightly into a smile at seeing the cute couple before her attention was once again drawn to the drell, when she heard his comment. She looks at the drell once more and tips her head to the side before looking down at her cup once more. “I didn’t think monsters had nightmares.” Her voice soft as she continues to pick at her mug once more.

His eyes cleared and he gave a visible start at the sound of soft voice. He caught sight of a pale drell at a table next to his. He was pretty sure it was she that spoke, but without eye contact he was left uncertain. He gazed around the cafe, but everyone else seemed even less likely to have spoken to him. He inclined his head to her. “Verily, they doth, but I hadst not realized that I spoke aloud. I mun apologize, for I am but sure that wast a most odd statement to chance upon.” 

She was unusually pale for a drell, he wondered if it was familial. Too, she was female, so few left Kahje and even less so Rakhana. He couldn’t help but wonder what had brought her so far from home. He also wondered if she would ask him why he thought monster had nightmares. How would he answer such? He could hardly tell her what he was. And he couldn’t claim that he was having nightmares, because drell can’t dream. With memories as real as life there was no need to dream. Perhaps, he would distract her. “What bringeth thee to the citadel?” Did she work here? Family? Or was her ship just passing through to elsewhere?

[shepardscrew]

Arwin

Leon

Tak

[amonkal]

She knew it wouldn’t be easy to sneak up on a God but she knew she wouldn’t back down from the challenge. Victoria had studied the drell since the first time she saw him protecting her sister from their father. She didn’t trust the drell as far as she could throw him and from the size of him, that distance was incredibly short. She had watched the way he was around his sister and had seen the pain Rine experienced during his absence and it angered her that she couldn’t keep her sister safe. 

Each step she took through his apartment was soft, her trench coat swaying slightly with each step. Her hand tightens on her gold pistol and on the hilt of the long sword she borrowed from a drell priest. She never took risks without thinking a plan through and after visiting with a priest that informed her of the war between the gods. She knew gods were greedy, selfish and if the sword the temple kept as evidence of it being used to strike down one of the Gods would help she would take it. 

They won’t miss it. Besides I’ll bring it back when I’m done if this trinket actually works.

Victoria had waited outside the house for the house guest to leave along with Rine. She didn’t want Rine to know of her existence and that she was about to threaten her husband.

She slows her breathing slipping into the room lifting her gun to point it at the drell’s back her hand ready to pull the trigger and draw the sword if need be. “Careful Hunter… or should I say Amonkal?” Her voice a low growl as she made sure that if he turned to look at her, he would see the hilt of the sword. 

“Seems the God found himself a human to toy with… How long before you leave her again? Two? Three months this time? Or will you wait until she is no longer useful to you.” She coos walking slowly, circling the drell. “Given you a child right?” She couldn’t hide her hatred for his kind and how easily they toyed with mortals. 

He felt the woman’s presence, before she ever entered the house. She was thinking about him and that drew his attention. Few mortals knew of him as of yet, though that was about to change. So, right now, few were thinking about him and so most of his attention was on her. When he was alone again, he faded out and brought himself to her side. She couldn’t see him, so he was free to study her. He had felt this human before on more than one occasion. He followed her as she stole into his home. He nearly blasted her for the affront. Trespassing into his home. What’s more is she carried a possessed sword. A soul had been bound to it long ago. That was death’s bailiwick. He knew V’Atre was busy with his mate, so he called out to V’Arte to join him.  When he felt the drell’s presence at his side, he nodded in the direction of the woman, but he needn’t have bothered. V’Arte’s attention was drawn immediately to the sword she carried. As Hunter could, he knew the man could hear the soul’s anguish. He held his hand up, stilling anything V’Arte might have had planned. He wanted to see how this would play out. “He signed his intentions to his mother’s warrior. Death signed back his understanding and they continued to follow the woman.

When he noticed the direction she was heading, he nodded to V’Arte, signed for the man to keep following the woman as he flashed himself to the room she was moving towards. He materialized, sitting down, his back to her and waited to see what the woman would do. He’d considered putting up a decoy...an illusion for her to confront, but gave her a respect he doubted she deserved and allowed her to approach him.

He blinked at her words. His lips twitched in a rare smile. But it was not a smile of warmth. It was cold. It was deadly. Mortals. He released a sigh and with naught more than a thought, he froze her in place. He rose and turned to face her. He looked down at the woman as he approached her. “You are immobile for your own protection.” He signaled V’Arte and the drell stepped into the mortal plain and appeared next to the woman, making his presence known to her. He removed the sword, ran his hand down the blade. There was a flash of light and the blade shattered, the hilt was tossed to the ground. The soul and the blade were so meshed that the removal of the soul destroyed it. He watched as the soul slipped into V’Arte and then returned his attention to the woman.  “You cannot shoot me, human. If you know who and what I am, then surely you do not think I wouldst die so easily? I couldst stop a bullet with a thought.” The gun in her hand popped into his. He tucked it into the small of his back, the waist of his pants locking it into place. Until he knew if this woman posed a threat to his wife, he did not wish to make her aware of how much Rine meant to him, Rine was not yet at her full power to protect herself. “With whom wouldst I be toying with?” he asked in a soft, deep rumble. “I wilt release you, but shouldst you do anything suspect you wilt be immobilized again...or worse.” He released the woman so she could respond to him. He knew he didn’t have to tell V’Arte to remain alert. Not that either one of them had much to fear from a mortal. Gods could be killed...if you knew how and if you were swift enough. But doing so left a void, threatening the balance of the mortal realm..causing mass destruction. But mortals always had been quick to destroy themselves. 

[fralenko]

The heavy beat of the music thrummed through his body, it felt as though his heart tried to match the rhythm.  The light was dim and the lights were flashing. He wore an ice blue dress shirt, that matched his eyes, tucked into black slacks. His gaze scanned the bar. He was supposed to meet an informant. Tattooed woman was all he knew. There was not a lot of intel given to him. But he would tackle this like he did everything. Hard and precise.  He caught sight of a tattooed woman sitting at a barstool. Not the most logical place to sit to pass intel. It could be that this was not his informant. He sat down beside her and ordered a scotch.  “You her?” he asked tersely without a look in her direction.