Skarr a pris un bref bonheur en faisant quelque chose que même l'asari fou pensait être hors. C'était bizarre de le voir sourire. D'habitude, il avait un comportement aussi froid. Quoi qu'il en soit, il savait que si son plan de pousser les grenades contre l'ennemi ne fonctionnait pas, cela ne falsifierait pas le plan étrange que les autres biotiques édictaient déjà, alors pourquoi ne pas le faire? La plupart ne comprenaient pas que Shockwave n'était pas une série d'explosions, mais des pressions intenses.
Quoi qu'il en soit, tout est allé en Enfer ensuite. Le grand vétéran était en train d'examiner les conseils du jeune Krogan, bien que la raison pour laquelle Skarr ne l'a pas crié était simple. Il avait été désensibilisé à la façon dont les coéquipiers réagiraient après des siècles. Il a deviné que c'était tous ces Vorcha et Bataries qu'il avait combattus à côté, mais la plupart n'écouteraient jamais les ordres. Heureusement que certains de ces coéquipiers semblaient. Il a suivi la combinaison mécanique, s'assurant que ses armes étaient rechargées et obtenant tous les packs thermiques qu'il pouvait.
"Par les Clans!" Skarr a appelé alors que les Husks ont commencé à s'enfiler. Les explosions et le plafond de rupture qu'il avait l'habitude, mais les Husks qu'il ne s'attendait pas à revoir. Il s'en souvenait trop bien. Ils n'étaient pas destructibles, et il le prouverait encore une fois. Il aida à tirer les tourelles et les Husks avec son fusil d'assaut, mais son principal ajout à l'effort allait de l'avant pour sauver le cul de cette femme humaine.
Puissant, mais contrôlé, Skarr s'élança vers l'avant et frappa sur tout obstacle ou errant et à moitié cassé Husk dans son chemin pour en arriver à l'avant. Avec une main puissante, il a attrapé la femme mince par la taille et l'a portée vers le haut. "Ce n'est pas un spectacle de guerrier. Si vous voulez continuer à tirer, ne bougez pas." Le Krogan l'a levée pour mettre le pied sur son dos, ses jambes capables de tomber sur son crâne massif comme un siège de fortune. Alors qu'il la guidait là-haut, il déchargeait une coquille de son fusil Claymore dans une coque, soufflant ses fragments partout. Il a lentement soutenu Salissa, qui à peu près maintenant avait un mont de guerre sur lequel il fallait tirer.
Name:
Raik "Aralakh" Skarr
Race:
Krogan
Class:
Battle Master
Age:
687
Sex:
Male
Appearance:
While not as old as a Krogan that recalls the Rachni Wars, Skarr is a well traveled Krogan and is very much a combat veteran in both years of fighting, and stature. He stands fully 7 feet, 5 inches tall and weighs in near 445 pounds, without his heavy armor or weapons. His skin is ruddy, with crimson outline, and has very similar coloring to Tuchanka's sun when light is shined upon in. A massive scar runs jagged across his forehead and nose, nearly touching his right eye, courtesy of an Asari assassin. His physique is brutish, with cable like muscles and the prominent hump of a mature Krogan.
Sometimes, we need to remember why we fight. Honor, loyalty, courage, and fortitude. Go to the Citadel sometime young one, and see the Statue erected to honor our people.
Backstory:
Skarr of Clan Raik was born in the year 1499 CE, mere years after Christopher Columbus discovered the 'New World.' On his own world, Skarr was raised in the ancient spiritual beliefs of his people, being the only son of Clan Raik's Shaman. His father was named Brod before he had given up his name to gain the Shaman title, leaving Skarr to be one of the rarest Krogan known, to be born on Tuchanka when many no longer were, and to have no true father or name to be born to.
He was raised by his mother and the remnants of his Clan, holding no ill will toward his father growing up. Instead he saw it something he should aspire to, for being a Shaman in Krogan culture was to face trials even most Krogan found brutal. As his fellows spoke of the glory days of Tuchunka and lamented their fall, Skarr had idealistic dreams and aspirations of becoming a great leader among his people. Perhaps all it took for the Krogan to rise from the ashes once more was vision.
From a young age, Skarr fought his clan brothers in faux bouts, regularly sizing them up and learning their tactics. He went on hunts as soon as he came of age, yearning the experience of that the older Krogan had to offer him. Passion for his world and determined to follow in his father's footsteps, drove him to excel and learn quickly. It was due to his fiery convictions that he gained the nickname 'Aralahk,' named after Tuchanka's sun, though that was not his official title until much later.
The years turned into decades. As the Clans feuded, battle between he and his fellow Krogan was inevitable. He killed his first Krogan over a land dispute in The Kalynd Badlands. To this day he still remembers the huge corpse of the nameless Korwun Krogan beneath his blood soaked hands. That day would forever live in his memory, for it was the day that set him off to his path as Battlemaster, within the crags of the southern cliffs. Valkarn Raik and Krude Raik were there accompanying them before they were ambushed by Korwun, ending in a struggle that left only Valkarn the Veteran and Skarr alive.
It was at that moment, when they were wiping the gore from their hands, that an earthquake occurred, shuddering the very ground beneath the feet of the two Krogan. No, it was not an earthquake! Suddenly, an adolescent Thresher Maw burst forth from the rock, disturbed by the recent combat and discharge of the Krogan firearms. It screeched and brought forth its massive maw. From within the ground, its tail whipped and sent rock jutting out between the two Krogan. Valkarn took the brunt of the damage, his Graal Spike Thrower flying out of his hands at the elder hit the side of a cliff, stunned.
The weapon flew. Skarr leaped off the newly formed rise and caught it just barely, a roar of victory spewing forth. However, the movement and cry drew the attention of the Thresher Maw. It screeched once more, and dived toward Skarr, scooping up the Krogan in its giant maw and gulping the poor Krogan down its gullet. Skarr would never forget how hot and wet it felt inside the beast, and he did the only thing he could do.
He discharged his weapon, the razor-like shells bursting through flesh. He made a conscious decision to fire in relatively the same spot over and over, forming a hole to grab onto. He cried out and continued to fire into the gun-wrought hole. Suddenly, sunlight burst into his vision, and he continued to fire over and over. Clawing with his massive strength, he shoved himself further into the hole he had made and ripped himself out. Thresher Maw scales flew, and a blood soaked Skarr now stood over a beast of legend, the Thresher Maw now merely shuddering in its death throes.
Valkarn was alive, but he merely stood unmoving. He caught Skarr's attention, and then nodded toward the cliff. Before them both was dozens upon dozens of Korwun Krogan standing over them, simply watching. To Skarr's surprise, they did not fire. They let out a cheer of congratulations to Skarr for such a feat of strength and determination. Even only an adolescent, killing a Thresher Maw was truly a feat. They did not kill the two Krogan for trespassing, but neither did the Korwun help them, for Korwun blood was upon their hands. However, word of Skarr's victory over the Thresher Maw (and the Korwun skirmish earlier from Valkarn's account) spread.
A Crush was formed, calling forth the Korwun, the Raik, and the Shamans. In this meeting of the clans, Skarr's accomplishments were made known and brought to light. They were verified to the Shamans, and as Raik's Battlemaster had been recently slain in clan infighting, Skarr was given the opportunity to claim the right of Battlemaster. Unfortunately, since the Battlemaster was dead, he would need to perform another rite by combat to claim the title.
Skarr's father stepped forward, and offered to fight his son. Brod, now nameless, challenged his son personally to test his mettle. Skarr was conflicted, but in the end, he accepted the challenge and met his father in combat. The crush was ended, and the fight had begun.
At first, the Shaman had the upperhand. He pushed Skarr hard, wanting to test him and see the full extent of his strength. After delivering a powerful blow to Skarr's side with his club, the Shaman sent a relentless barrage at the now prone young Krogan, hoping for him to give up, yet secretly hoping to see his son succeed. It should have been foreseen, but with this barrage of attacks, Skarr was unable to help himself, and his world turned crimson.
When he awoke, he stood over the body of his father, his breathing labored and his hands once again covered in blood. His father's blood. Skarr was struck silent, as were the other Krogan. Death was not required, but it was not a breaking of the rules. Skarr however...he had given into the bloodrage, and killed his own sire. The Krogan who he had emulated, having only known as his father for a short period, but always hoping to one day reach him in status, to live alongside him. He was dead by his own hand.
He was proclaimed Battlemaster, and given the title "Aralakh" or "Eye of Wrath" to honor both his clan and his incredible victory via bloodlust. They gave it to him to honor him. He bore it as a reminder, to stay in control of himself from now on. To never let such a thing happen again, that his rage would in turn break his heart. He could not bear seeing what he would wreak with such a thing again. Not to someone who he had idolized, loved even.
He left Tuchanka weeks later, giving his old friend Valkarn the title of Battlemaster if he so desired, taking the title as one he would bear as a Freelance Mercenary. Because he was the Battlemaster for such a short time, he only gained a small amount of Biotic experience that he would only fine tune until later.
He made a name for himself as a Mercenary, making it to the Citadel first and laying eyes on the Krogan statue erected for their victory against the Rachni. He took the words upon the statue to heart, and it was mere days later he received his first contract, fighting for an Asari banker who needed to regain a space station from Vorcha raiders.
Over the next few centuries, he gained a reputation for brutal efficiency and differentiated from other Krogan Battlemasters by only taking contracts that he thought would fit the Krogan ideal of honor, rather than the 'any means necessary' attitude most Mercenary Battlemasters took. One of his most notable and recent contracts included fighting the Batarians in the Offensive of Torfan due to the Skyllian Blitz.
He set foot on Tuchanka for the first time since he had killed his father when the Reapers attacked, making his way home. His presence and renewed spirit boosted the morale of the Raik clan, and while he was not their Clan leader, many looked to him for a voice, and he fought alongside his brothers on Palaven, fighting selflessly with their Turian rivals for the sake of the greater universe.

I was made to end lives. However, to mindlessly kill is beneath me, and indeed our race. When I kill? It's a choice I make consciously, every time.
Psyche Profile:
Skarr enjoys combat, and enjoys the art of killing. Not for mundane reasons such as bloodthrist, but simply because he believes it is the true way to speak in this universe. To be a good fighter and a successful warrior shows dedication, skill, and it drives how the galaxy is formed. Wars evolve society far quicker than peace, and as the old saying goes, you cannot make an omelette without breaking a few eggs.
However, he does not dismiss conversation, nor does he dismiss learning. He enjoys comraderie with his companions, and discussions that involve deeper and unorthodox thinking. What has led to the downfall of his people through the centuries was not their violent nature, but their violent nature that had no philosophical goal. No goal except monetary gain, or for their own foolish pride. Or worse, for the hedonistic feel of simply taking a life without any thought to repercussions.
Skarr enjoys good food and what the humans call 'Rock' and 'metal' music. He listens to informative audio datafiles in his spare time on subjects he enjoys or that currently catches his fancy.
One can be both brutal and efficient, if you know how.
Specialty:
As with most Krogan, Skarr excels at brutalizing the enemy and shrugging off enemy fire. He can easily tear through the front lines of troops, incapacitating and breaking their formation as he wreaks havoc. Due to his Battlemaster training, Killing is a science. A single blow from a Skarr is often enough to kill or severely incapacitate anyone he comes across, and he moves with such precision and focus even among dozens of foes. To add to his killing capability is his biotic powers, that he utilizies to further break entrenchments that he cannot reach or is too busy to handle, or simply as something to further increase his Shock tactics.
However, he does separate himself from other Krogan due to his cool under fire and stress, and he makes a decent medium range combatant as well, when need be. Long years spent in tactical missions gives him a finesse and an appreciation for fine shots and flanking maneuvers that most Krogan lack.
Powers/Skills:

Shockwave (Biotic)
Biotic Hammer (Biotic)
Concussive Shot
Frag Grenade
Carnage
Adrenaline Rush
Marksmen

Equipment and Resources:

M-6 Carnifex Heavy Pistol
M-15 Vindicator Assault Rifle
M-300 Claymore Shotgun
Biotic Hammer
Heavy Krogan Colossus Armor

Sample Post:


1627, Terminus System...
"Where have we docked?" The Turian 'Cassius' asked, his Crossfire IV Assault Rifle hefted and at the ready. "My omnitool is of no use here, nor my datapad." He sounded concerned.
Skarr did not have an answer, and he knew the only way to find out was to check. "Time to move," he rumbled. The Turian raised a hand, cautioning him to wait. Skarr glanced back at him. "We were paid to halt the slave trade and kill those responsible. Now or never as I see it."
The Turian hesitated, and then nodded. "Right," Cassius replied. Behind him, the two Vorcha who's names they never caught chittered to one another, clearly eager to continue. Skarr nodded back to the Turian, thoroughly convinced Cassius had expected Skarr to be the typical Krogan, who would roar and charge, announcing their position. That wasn't exactly his plan, but soon they would need to be less than subtle if they wanted to halt the deal. It was a miracle they had stowed away on the Avarice when they had the chance.
Skarr opened the port door, allowing a moment or two to slip past to see if anyone was nearby. When they heard no noise, Skarr stepped out with his Shotgun leading.
"I make for the exit. Secure the ship," the Krogan said to Cassius. They needed a transport out of wherever they were, after all.
He only needed to dispatch two of the Slavers as he made his way to the left of the ship, approaching the docking area. The first slaver did not even cry out, the Batarian's neck was snapped quickly and efficiently. The next was a Vorcha, that only let out one chitter before he was Shotgun butted, and then crushed to death under the two heavy blows of the Krogan, severing his spinal column with a snap.
This was routine. Skarr had done it for near a century. It was what happened next that caught him off guard. He hesitated when he opened the docking door, the pad opening to reveal an infinite nether.
No, they were within a vast artificial structure. Lights like veins could be seen on the horizon. The only solid surface within miles was platform below, seemingly floating with an anti-gravity technology Skarr was not familiar with. He leaped down upon the closest one, and heard gunshots erupt behind him as soon as he landed.
"Vorcha," he muttered as he hit the platform, theorizing it was the two Vorcha mercenaries that gave their positions away. Well, take things one step at a time. He needed to find the Slaves, and Raltorn...
He kept as low as he could, moving from small, oddly designed walkways up to where the next platform was. Methodically, he searched and lurked, moving from structure to structure yet meeting no signs of life. That is, until he made it just above the final platform. When he peeked out of the small parapet-like rise in the structure of the platform, he saw the Krogan Battlemaster that he recognized as Raltorn, the infamous slaver with the largest bounty in the system on his head. Skarr saw no sign of the slaves, but what other forms of life he did see, he did not quite expect.
The Krogan had never seen such aliens before, with large tapering heads and a chitinous insect-like exoskeleton. They were roughly the size of a Batarian, or a Turian? Smaller than he, he knew. Most things were, after all. Their four eyes glowed, and they seemed to be dealing with Raltorn, the Krogan haggling prices. Skarr knew cool heads would prevail, but he theorized that his element of surprise had been far too lucky so far. He needed to strike quickly.
So he did, tossing a fragmentation grenade over the side, simultaneously elevating himself and discharging his shotgun. The gun's shell ripped into the leading alien, tearing through its lower half. The grenade detonated and tore through the ranks of the curious aliens. One of them leaped high in the air, floating upon odd insect wings and fired at him. Skarr shot it out of the sky before it landed. He turned to aim at the Krogan, but had to duck when Raltorn returned fire.
Skarr quickly analyzed the battlefield via his memory, and knew a direct assault was not expected by Raltorn. He went for it, suddenly firing at Raltorn and received a small wound on the shoulder, trading it for being able to vault over the railing and onto the platform before the other Krogan.
His shotgun was summarily ripped from his hands via a bitoic attack from Raltorn, who fired another burst of assault rifle rounds at Skarr that punched into his chest. His armor and tough physique absorbed most of it, but he was bleeding. Raltorn was out of ammo now though, revealing his trump card weapon from his back.
A biotic hammer. It glowed an ominous blue, crackling with energy. "Run now if you don't want to die, fool."
"I should tell you the same," Skarr replied, and the two Krogan advanced upon one another.
Raltorn tried to strike quickly with an overhead hammer attack. Skarr blocked the haft with his forearm before it could connect, simultaneously unholstering his Carnifex heavy pistol and firing into the dishonorable Battlemaster's torso. He advanced, pushing back the weakening Krogan as he emptied the gun's clip. Skarr could feel the intense pressure of the Biotic hammer still mere inches from his head, but he ignored it. Armor and Krogan flesh burst out of Raltorn's stomach until Skarr could no longer pull the trigger.
Raltorn yanked his hammer back, the biotic weapon merely clipping Skarr's head, but sending a jarring impact into the Krogan that had the large alien shuddering and having to keep from biting his tongue. Bloodied and probably needing medical assistance later, Raltorn head butted Skarr, and attempted to slam Skarr's side with his hammer once more. Skarr's iron will and senses kept him from being struck head on. He grabbed at the haft of the weapon, and kneed Raltorn in the wounded area. Raltorn rasped, his grip on the hammer loosening. Skarr ripped it out of his hands, spinning and striking Raltorn fully. It burst into the Krogan's flesh and sent the dying slave trader off the platform and into the nether.
Skarr breathed heavily, but was relatively undamaged. He hefted the weapon, feeling the intensity of it. It felt good in his large hands. Gripping it, and testing its weight, he approached the fallen Xenos. Broken but still crawling, the triangular shaped head was sparking, as if it was a malfunctioning machine. Truly, the lower half of the thing was nothing but wires that were snaking eeriely back and forth.
"Fully synthetic," Skarr mused aloud. He did not know what this thing was, but it was not something the Citadel council would approve of, he was certain of that.
The grip on the hammer tightened, and he lifted it up to finish off this abomination of virtual intelligence.