Aurelir Citus
Nov 12, 2017 10:38:16 GMT -5
Post by Deleted on Nov 12, 2017 10:38:16 GMT -5
Aurelir Citus
Rank: Captain of turian frigate Ferrala
Age: 44
Job: Inspects caves for safety. Rigs electricity. Consults. Does a little bit of everything.
Description;
6'9”at his crest, Aurelir is about average for a turian, but...tall, compared to humans and the like. He's a rangy creature, but heavier-set than the average turian; on palaven he'd be considered burly. To humans he probably still looks a little like a stick-dinosaur. He's got hide that's an ashy grey, and dull bronze plates several shades darker than the majority of his body, nicked and scarred pretty heavily. The deep purple markings that start at his brow plates and move back down his crest are crossed here and there by tiny nicks and cuts in the plating. Of the four back-sweeping, tatooed branches of his crest, one is snapped two-thirds of the way down, and the rest are scraped up something fierce, echoing similar markings all over his body.
Not that you'll ever see his body, unless it's to be submersed in the nearest hot spring – the cold is not just unpleasant for Aurelir, but dangerous. Thankfully, he's got an impressive set of armor, and enough tech to keep it going.
Personality;
Of good, old stock, full of honored warriors and military leaders, Aurelir knew his place in life from the start. He's always known. His place is fighting for the good of palaven, of turians everywhere. That's the purpose of every turian, and who is he to go against it? He enjoys a good routine. He likes to be listened to without having to give the same order twice. He likes the feel of a ship as it's slammed through space, the way the hull groans and pops and settles into the routine of the flight.
Aurel's been serving the turian military since he was fifteen. He doesn't really know how to be a person outside of that. He was mostly fine with that, too – he's risen to the rank of captain, with a secondary leadership in the fleet on the whole. What's he supposed to do now, really?
It's not anywhere near retirement time, and he wasn't really planning on that anyways. Not in a human sense.
He's either going to find something to do, or go batshit-ass-crazy.
History;
Born on palaven, in a relatively minor military capital, Aurelir Citus had a relatively charmed life from the start. His military training was made easy by a variety of training as a child – you'd think arming a little boy wouldn't be optimal, but one of his fondest childhood memories is target practice with his mother. He enjoyed the tactical side even more, taught patiently to him through endless nights with one parent or the other, or even familial relations who had the experience to teach him. Aurel loved his training, was a child who wanted to please and also one who enjoyed the challenge, stubborn and too smart for his own good.
Aurelir was a green recruit during the Relay 314 Incident. By the time he left boot camp, the whole thing was over, Shanxi reparated for, and turian attitudes towards human exceedingly wary. For his part, it was a decade before the young turian ever saw a human – in officer training, as part of the diplomatic courses. He never harbored the same frantic hatred as many of his slightly elder peers, but a more subtle view of them: they were loud, and not nearly as disciplined as he would like. Still.
Over the years, the world got stranger, and Aurelir survived. He advanced in rank. He outlived a great many turians and aliens alike; especially once the reaper war broke out. His advancement to captain wasn't exactly hasty – it was the obvious next step in his career, after he'd served as second-in-command for a solid five years – but it was made with haste. He was the first to command the new frigate Ferrala, one of the many the engineers finished to send out to the frontlines.
She was one of the first to go down, too, in defense of palaven. Less than a month in, she was hit dead-on, and everybody on board would likely have died in the fiery conclusion of the event. The engines had been knocked out, after all, and crashing through an atmosphere...well. That didn't ever go well, no matter how advanced your ship.
Nobody aboard was really sure what happened between the blast and their only barely-not-a-crash landing into the crater of a volcano on a planet that was certainly not palaven. Not even Aurelir, who had never lost control of his faculties in his damn life. How had they gotten there? Why weren't they dead? Nobody was at all certain.
Rank: Captain of turian frigate Ferrala
Age: 44
Job: Inspects caves for safety. Rigs electricity. Consults. Does a little bit of everything.
Description;
6'9”at his crest, Aurelir is about average for a turian, but...tall, compared to humans and the like. He's a rangy creature, but heavier-set than the average turian; on palaven he'd be considered burly. To humans he probably still looks a little like a stick-dinosaur. He's got hide that's an ashy grey, and dull bronze plates several shades darker than the majority of his body, nicked and scarred pretty heavily. The deep purple markings that start at his brow plates and move back down his crest are crossed here and there by tiny nicks and cuts in the plating. Of the four back-sweeping, tatooed branches of his crest, one is snapped two-thirds of the way down, and the rest are scraped up something fierce, echoing similar markings all over his body.
Not that you'll ever see his body, unless it's to be submersed in the nearest hot spring – the cold is not just unpleasant for Aurelir, but dangerous. Thankfully, he's got an impressive set of armor, and enough tech to keep it going.
Personality;
Of good, old stock, full of honored warriors and military leaders, Aurelir knew his place in life from the start. He's always known. His place is fighting for the good of palaven, of turians everywhere. That's the purpose of every turian, and who is he to go against it? He enjoys a good routine. He likes to be listened to without having to give the same order twice. He likes the feel of a ship as it's slammed through space, the way the hull groans and pops and settles into the routine of the flight.
Aurel's been serving the turian military since he was fifteen. He doesn't really know how to be a person outside of that. He was mostly fine with that, too – he's risen to the rank of captain, with a secondary leadership in the fleet on the whole. What's he supposed to do now, really?
It's not anywhere near retirement time, and he wasn't really planning on that anyways. Not in a human sense.
He's either going to find something to do, or go batshit-ass-crazy.
History;
Born on palaven, in a relatively minor military capital, Aurelir Citus had a relatively charmed life from the start. His military training was made easy by a variety of training as a child – you'd think arming a little boy wouldn't be optimal, but one of his fondest childhood memories is target practice with his mother. He enjoyed the tactical side even more, taught patiently to him through endless nights with one parent or the other, or even familial relations who had the experience to teach him. Aurel loved his training, was a child who wanted to please and also one who enjoyed the challenge, stubborn and too smart for his own good.
Aurelir was a green recruit during the Relay 314 Incident. By the time he left boot camp, the whole thing was over, Shanxi reparated for, and turian attitudes towards human exceedingly wary. For his part, it was a decade before the young turian ever saw a human – in officer training, as part of the diplomatic courses. He never harbored the same frantic hatred as many of his slightly elder peers, but a more subtle view of them: they were loud, and not nearly as disciplined as he would like. Still.
Over the years, the world got stranger, and Aurelir survived. He advanced in rank. He outlived a great many turians and aliens alike; especially once the reaper war broke out. His advancement to captain wasn't exactly hasty – it was the obvious next step in his career, after he'd served as second-in-command for a solid five years – but it was made with haste. He was the first to command the new frigate Ferrala, one of the many the engineers finished to send out to the frontlines.
She was one of the first to go down, too, in defense of palaven. Less than a month in, she was hit dead-on, and everybody on board would likely have died in the fiery conclusion of the event. The engines had been knocked out, after all, and crashing through an atmosphere...well. That didn't ever go well, no matter how advanced your ship.
Nobody aboard was really sure what happened between the blast and their only barely-not-a-crash landing into the crater of a volcano on a planet that was certainly not palaven. Not even Aurelir, who had never lost control of his faculties in his damn life. How had they gotten there? Why weren't they dead? Nobody was at all certain.
