Spectre Evaluation - Triaria Kruyt, (Closed for Jet.)

[TincyWorm]

There were several factors that the Turian race were known, or, even famous for. Their fierce military discipline, the strict taboos concerning their departed, the way they respected their elders and those higher in rank, their knack for practicality... And, of course, among a myriad of other things, their strong dislike for chilly, low temperature environments. However, these things, as so many members of the Citadel races had come to both know and realize, were stereotypes; as well as generalizations. There were turians who didn't care for orders, or respect, or ranks. Or, those who simply did not give a flying Vorcha's ass about the cold.

In fact, some even found certain planets with offensively low temperatures to be a fascinating novelty. Not to mention snow! That amazing, blindingly bright by product of the aforementioned harsh conditions. It was an honest to Spirits shame then, that Kalnus Vir Caecina was not on Noveria for recreational purposes. Not that a leisure trip here would have been possible in the first place. No; the reason why K.V. Found his finely toned malemeat here involved reasons which were way more pressing.

The council had decided to charge him with the task of evaluating another Spectre hopeful. A member of his own race, actually. The male rotated his armored shoulders idly as he recalled the information that had been relayed to him rather vividly via his omni tool. The candidate in question was a little female, with more years of existence behind her than what he had. For one reason or another, it amused him, and caused the perpetual, jolly grin plastered onto his maw to widen. And apparently she too, had a history of near insubordination! A tiny quirk which they both seemed to share, man.

Perhaps they would get along just perfectly; even if this wasn't a social call. Besides which, she was supposedly an infilitrator: The lanky male found their clandestine ways of operating quite refreshing as well as enjoyable. Not to mention how it might just turn out to be vital for the success of both the assessment and the mission.

A company, unimaginatively called Vector. had signed a long term lease with Noveria Development Corporation for one of their infamous research facilities. One more commonly known as ”Pancake 8”, (how very scientific...) located on the Dauđi plateau. Things had apparently been running rather smoothly for several years in a row. But, there was always that ”but”. Even in these modern days, the unbeatable duo of greed and credits beheld power overwhelming. After both of the aforementioned catalysts had tickled the fancies of unnamed individuals, extensive if very covert investigations had taken place. Roughly about a quarter of Vector's employees had turned out to be bioterrorists. HOW unexpected!

Highly trained and skilled ones; not a ragtag bunch of vorcha driven fumblers. Now, despite ethics, the development of biochemical armaments was not unheard of on Noveria. However, this lot in question had the resources to channel their information to their minor branches around the Galaxy. While nothing serious had transpired, not yet, the terrorists posed a notable threat. Hence, they had to be treated like a complicated entity. One whose core had to be eradicated as well as expunged: Vector's C.O, a Salarian (oily little bastard with sleek cranial horns!) named Nax Trantal, was naturally in on the entire thing. Insane, dangerous, and rumours had it that he was rather fond of observing experiments that involved live test subjects. That may or may not be ”kerfuffling” employees, to quote the report.

Mmyeah. Charging headlong into shit with your shotguns ablaze never solved or accomplished anything. Except bruises. And his hide, as well as plates, had already aquired quite an admirable collection of those, simply from his trademark, off mission klutziness.

Man, in the three hours he had spent here? K.V. Had already tripped over his own legs; managed to get an Asari researcher's heirloom bracelet stuck on one of his spurs; had broken a bench simply by lowering his rump onto it. And, somehow, had managed to upset the local Hanar merchant by the name of Opold the Third... Simply by inquiring ”How's it hangin' today, jellyjuju?” So, for perhaps just a heartbeat, he found himself cogitating about how he had managed to pass his harsh Cabal training with such amazing grace and adroitness. But, so long as his instincts functioned during a mission, he quite enjoyed carrying the unwitting mantle of a comedian. Even if at the end of the day it involved him getting mildly 'ouchie'd.. In one way or another.

His eyes, ever attentive and as green as Palaven's clear oceans, kept on scanning the docking station , eager to spot the target which they so desperately sought. Admittedly, he himself had arrived here way ahead of a rather strict schedule. Then again man, he had spent that time rather productively. So now, his armor had been double checked (especially the newly installed body temperature regulators). He had gone over and memorized the candidate's details as well as the Evaluation's parameters. Hence, after some truly deep meditaton indeed, K.V. Had decided to pamper that innate slumbering snob inside him with those infamous luxuries Noveria supposedly had to offer. Yet as it turned out, as … well, as unique as this particular station's minimalistic yet (repulsively) exorbitant decor was, it offered little in the way of mental stimulation. The cuisine, on the other talon...

Spirits of his ancestors, now THAT was something! Essentially the nonexistantly tiny restaurant that operated on Port Hanshan catered to the palates of the small number of executives frequenting the colony. His excuse for stuffing his maw with food meant for individuals who leaked offensive amounts of credits had been the fact that he was, of course, a proud biotic.

He simply required all that sustenance, man. Never mind the fact that he carried all those thumb sized containers on his person, full of what could only be described as highly concentrated gunk. Gunk developed by the Hierarchy that tended to the metabolic needs of their Cabal agents. But that shit? Blargh. As used to it as he was, it had the flavor equivalent to that of liquified keeper excrement. The texture and scent too, weren't all that different. Regardless of this, they were a necessary, important evil when it came to completing the evaluation.

Well aware of this, K.V began to systematically pat the pockets of his armor, reassuring himself for the billionth time that everything was in order. All that gunk, clips, non lethal projectiles, grenades and finally, utilities were all there. Withdrawing his gloved talons from the pleasantly feeling material, he allowed his lanky, angular frame to lean comfortably against one of the walls. The obsidian and lazuline markings riddling his visage stuck out like a curly fringe from the clinical, rather lifeless surfaces.

For one reason or another, this appeared to greatly irritate a fellow turian guard, standing not too far from his person. His glower radiated a very obvious malice; and when K.V made an amicable gesture, the guard responded by flaring his mandibles and bearing his fangs. The Spectre, not moved by the other's display of abdunant, pent up testosterone, simply snorted dismissively through his flat nostrils and continued to stare at the docks. It wasn't his fault that these poor doofuses saw such little action.

Triaria Kruyt. K.V hoped that she would recognize him based on his physical height alone. And if not, there were always the telltale Spectre insignias embedded in his armor. Kruyt. Kruyt. Krrrrruyt. Her cognomina reminded him of the sound xemna crackers made when you crunched them between your fangs! But he was fed, prepared, and officially on duty. There was no more time to be spared on lollygagging. Shoving the ideas of unwholesome snacks away from his mind, he waited there, his slinky form highlighted by Port Hanshan's eerie illumination.

Where was she, anyway? He was eager to get to "Pancake 8."

((My apologies for the length & wordyness... ))

[Jet]

After going through the long and arduous paper work that she had to fill out for her superiors back at the citadel for C-sec HQ. They weren't exactly pleased that they were going to lose one of their best officers to the spectres. She however on the other talon didn't give a hoot what they thought. She was so sick and tired of all the red tape and political shit-storm that C-sec was.

She had gone through to many cases where people had walked away unscathed through deals made that weren't hers. There had been times she had wanted to just shoot the criminal and call it a day. But with C-sec it was never that easy. Although there would be certain elements that she would miss about the place such as the familiarity of it along with the other officers there that shared her views on things along with friends that she left behind there.

She was also feeling alittle guilty about the fact that she had left Natalia to the wolves of the bureau. Though she had shown some promise even if she was a little bit .......what was the word?.....Naive. yes that's what it was. She also acted childish too but she was sure that being on her own for a bit would change that. Triaria also cared for the young human girl like little sister. It was an odd feeling as she didn't have any family that she knew of besides her mother......and of course her father......where ever the hell he was.....or if he was even alive.

After completing the paper work Triaria spent the rest of the day at home relaxing taking a nice hot shower before she would have to get ready for her departure to Noveria where she would meet the Specter who ever they were. She also had to go by some new updated gear for the Evaluation. She stood looking at her old set of armor that she used to where when in the Heirarchy. It was a Phatom-X from the serrice council group. The armor still looked to be in top condition on the count of her taking care of it. She also decided to where two SMG's on each hip then went over to grab her sniper rifle and assault rifle. Once that was done she closed and locked her room walking a out taking on final glance at her home before turning off the lights and closing the door.

Sometime later She found herself standing on the main bridge of the vessal she was taking passage with to Noveria. She looked at the planet as it came within view. To her it looked to be one big ball of ice, freezing and inhospitable. It was also dangerous but not just meaning it's climate but she knew that Noveria was notorious for conducting things that would normally be illegal with in citadel space. Soon they got clearance from a man that was speaking in a very strict manner. Charming......just what she needed more procedures and redtape. Shrugging it off she walked out of the bridge and went to the docking bay section to disembark.

She sighed impatiently as the security was scrutinizing her closely and the files she carried that would give her necessary clearance to keep her weapons on her. After they checked the files thoroughly they let her pass telling her they would be watching her closely and not to make trouble. To which she laughed at when she got onto the elevator knowing that there most likely be some trouble since this was a spectre training evaluation. She stopped her laughing and regained her composure as the elevator came to a stop.

She looked around at the gray stoned walls and ceiling. Port hanshan positively was the place to be if you wanted to conduct things that weren't so legal in the white collar class range. she had no doubt that this place had seen quite some scandals and alot of corruption even though the noveria org. kept very tight reins on the place. After walking only a short distance she spotted the spectre near a hanar.

Kalnus Vir Caecina was not what she expected to see......in fact her was quite cute in her opinion. His physique is not overly toned, not horribly skinny, but simply athletic and lean. she liked his green eyes as they reminded her of the oceans on palavan. He had a calm smile on his face and his compsure was calm as well. She liked him on sight. She walked over to him smiling.

"Kalnus Vir Caecina I presume......I'm Triaria Kryut. Pleasure to meet you." she said extending her taloned hand to his.

(updated her personality and appearence ref in her bio)


This post has been edited by Jet on 01 December 2011, 12:32 pm

[TincyWorm]

So. Currently the pressing query floating about his ever carefree mind was how many donuts (the ridiculously teensy ones) you could possibly fit on that irate guard's mandibles. Because, by the Spirits of his Ancestors, if there was anyone who currently needed human style confectioneries skewered onto their body parts, it was him. Perhaps with some shabi-fruit flavor sprinkles. Ohhhhh and glazing. Definitely glazing. And sugar! Since that rampant storm outside was forcing Noveria's fine, unfathomably cold snow to razzmatazz wildly. And, it looked exactly like powdery sugar as it piled up against Port Hanshan's remarkably sturdy windows.

The furious fellow turian's raptorial eyes narrowed even further, signalling that, given the chance, he wished to do rather unsightly things to K.V. with that bulky rifle of his. Deciding to avert his vivid green gaze from the angry sack, the lanky Spectre was about to turn his attention back to Opold the Third. Perhaps he ought to humbly apologize to it, and proceed to wonder if 'That one has ever worn baked goods on it's tentacles?'. However, the object which entered his field of vision was not offensively pink, tentacled, or rubbery. In fact, it had no tentacles at all. In fact, it was indeed a she; a turian with normal limbs, shelled by an impressive if an older model of armor.

Pushing himself off the clinically gray stone wall, K.V. straightened his back and molded his frame into a perfect soldier's posture as the figure drew nearer. His mandibles clicked audibly against the sides of his lower jaw before they flared again. This time however, they remained splayed for a heartbeat longer, offering the female an almost inappropriately cheerful, fanged grin.

"Kalnus Vir Caecina I presume......I'm Triaria Kryut. Pleasure to meet you."

The first thing that struck the tall male was the color of her plates. They opposed his own onyx tattooed visage perfectly with their impeccable whiteness. And would, no doubt, provide a noteworthy competitor to the dazzling heaps of snow outside in bright sunlight. But, she was still (technically) his superior, regardless of the difference in their physical size and color. As such, he didn't allow his oceanic orbs to ogle at her for long. He even opted to ignore her extended talon, and raised his talons into a more appropriate, military salute instead.

"Ma'am! K.V. will suffice just fine. Glad to finally meet ya, too!" His flanged tone rang with a lilt, while still maintaining an air of respect. Even when the aspect on the male's visage shifted to that of a more serious one, the humorous glint present in his eyes refused to wane. "Okay-yyy, so, lets get goin' huh?" Snapping his mandibles shut, he folded his arms behind his back, entwined his talons and stood at ease.

"Right. Basically? This place as you well know, is favored by mostly shady science companies as well as organizations. Our target is, er, unsurprisingly, one of them. Known as Vector. They got some real nasty individuals among their ranks. Bioterrorists, and I don't mean the kind that produce tiny fart bombs." He paused for a second before tilting his head slightly to the left pensively.

"We're after a huge bunch of them, really. But most of all we're out there for their C.O, Nax Trantal. An unpredictable Salarian. Sleek, creepy, armed and as nuts as a Hastatim veteran. Supposedly he's always surrounded by a bunch of his underlings. We are obligated to drag our asses to their facility. Pa..." Fuck man, he had trouble keeping a straight face at the mention of the location.

"Pancake 8. Purge Vector of Trantal. And those aforementioned cohorts, before they cause any serious harm to any populated area within the jurisdiction of the Citadel Space. The security personnel as expected, are all heavily geared and, most work directly for Trantal. Some researchers are potential suspects too, though the information related to this was lax... and that's puttin' it politely!"

K.V. couldn't help but to lower both of his browplates into a momentary scowl and pause his speech. Filling his lungs with cool, comforting air, he held his breath for a heartbeat before puffing it out through his nostrils. "They're unpredictable, and they might decide to take the actual Vector workers as hostages or some such once they discover us. Er, emphasis on the might. So, onto the technicalities! You'll be evaluated on your performance, actions, decisions, pretty much everything you do from now on. I will be your subordinate; command me as you will ma'am. But, there's a few things ya gotta know 'bout me."

Taking a step backwards, he lifted both of his arms to his angular chest's height. Talons spread wide open, he allowed thin strings of biotic energy to envelop his gloved palms for a second; two, before letting them wane peacefully. "I'm a biotic. Fitted with one hell of an amp, too. And, err. Well..." And at this point, his digits began to hesitantly fiddle with the protective cloth lining his prominent collarbone. "Unlike most Spectres, I'm also armed with some non lethal weaponry. But if ya tell me to kill, I'll kill, yeah? And having said that, er, pu---.. um..." How to say this politely? Ah, Spirits, screw it. "Well, puh-lease don't get us killed, kay? So, got any questions orrr... are you good to drive all the way to the Dauđi plateau?"

There it was, man. That pleasant tingle of anticipation, somewhere deep within his nonexistent, plated tummy. Regardless of the ominous storm outside, or the mortally hazardous cold, K.V. felt no anxiety what so ever. He had full confidence in the Spectre hopeful. Kryut; that white plated little female who had replaced any lingering images of glazed donuts in his mind.

[Jet]

Triaria smiled slightly as he snapped her salute to her. "At ease Captain." she said Then stepped around him taking account of his tall form.


"Right. Basically? This place as you well know, is favored by mostly shady science companies as well as organizations. Our target is, er, unsurprisingly, one of them. Known as Vector. They got some real nasty individuals among their ranks. Bioterrorists, and I don't mean the kind that produce tiny fart bombs." He paused for a second before tilting his head slightly to the left pensively.

"We're after a huge bunch of them, really. But most of all we're out there for their C.O, Nax Trantal. An unpredictable Salarian. Sleek, creepy, armed and as nuts as a Hastatim veteran. Supposedly he's always surrounded by a bunch of his underlings. We are obligated to drag our asses to their facility. Pa..." Fuck man, he had trouble keeping a straight face at the mention of the location.

"Pancake 8. Purge Vector of Trantal. And those aforementioned cohorts, before they cause any serious harm to any populated area within the jurisdiction of the Citadel Space. The security personnel as expected, are all heavily geared and, most work directly for Trantal. Some researchers are potential suspects too, though the information related to this was lax... and that's puttin' it politely!

K.V. couldn't help but to lower both of his browplates into a momentary scowl and pause his speech. Filling his lungs with cool, comforting air, he held his breath for a heartbeat before puffing it out through his nostrils. "They're unpredictable, and they might decide to take the actual Vector workers as hostages or some such once they discover us. Er, emphasis on the might. So, onto the technicalities! You'll be evaluated on your performance, actions, decisions, pretty much everything you do from now on. I will be your subordinate; command me as you will ma'am. But, there's a few things ya gotta know 'bout me."

Taking a step backwards, he lifted both of his arms to his angular chest's height. Talons spread wide open, he allowed thin strings of biotic energy to envelop his gloved palms for a second; two, before letting them wane peacefully. "I'm a biotic. Fitted with one hell of an amp, too. And, err. Well..." And at this point, his digits began to hesitantly fiddle with the protective cloth lining his prominent collarbone. "Unlike most Spectres, I'm also armed with some non lethal weaponry. But if ya tell me to kill, I'll kill, yeah? And having said that, er, pu---.. um..." How to say this politely? Ah, Spirits, screw it. "Well, puh-lease don't get us killed, kay? So, got any questions orrr... are you good to drive all the way to the Dauđi plateau?"

Triaria became thoughtful for a moment thinking best how to deal with the situation. "well it's good to know that you got non-lethal weapons since we have to capture our main target. Now as far as commanding you I have no problem when doing it but as far as I go I prefer to work on my own as but seeing as you're a spectre that shouldn't be a problem. It's also good to know that you are also a Cabal, not to many of you boys around.

Alright I'm fit to travel as I had plenty of rest on the flight here so let's move out." she said and began moving for the garage.

"So do you have a transport on standby? or are we going to have to commandeer one?" she asked looking back over her shoulder before going up a ramp then over the stone bridge that led deeper into the compound of port Hanshan.

This post has been edited by Jet on 13 December 2011, 12:41 am

[TincyWorm]

The female had slender mandibles. Mandibles that had stayed absolutely and unnaturally still as K.V. had droned on about the mission parameters. And even after he had finally snapped his own, excited maw shut ('cause Spirits, he wanted to get his ass moving, lest it should freeze off) those sleek appendages remained stationary. The lanky spectre however, did his best to ignore her impassiveness. Even if it bombarded the pit of his stomach with sensations of mild discomfort. It wasn't his place to judge others, man. It really wasn't. Well... not in this particular sense, anyway.

"well it's good to know that you got non-lethal weapons since we have to capture our main target... /... Alright I'm fit to travel as I had plenty of rest on the flight here so let's move out."

The highest nubs of his own mandibles however, soon made sweet contact with the tips of his fangs. Tilting them inward to just the right angle, K.V. began to nibble on them pensively as he mulled over her modest praises. It was heartening to learn that not all of his own kind treated individuals with biotic abilities as umbral, hulking claw-monsters. Then again... An open mind, or at least pretending to have one, was an obligatory quality all turian Spectres and candidates should possess. Cool. He could work with that. However...

Shifting his weight from one, impossibly long leg to another, (and giving his mandibles a rest) the jolly male concluded that her approach to general protocol wasn't all too... turian. That comment about how she preferred to work in solitude. Spirits, as perpetually relaxed as he was, it still managed to pester him somewhat.

Okay; so it was a generalization, but didn't such preferences lead you down the path of renegade rebels as well as traitors? And, hadn't there been that one infamous Spectre ages ago who had possessed the same exact attitude? The one who had been racked with bitterness and resentment, who had eventually succumbed to the beckoning of something inexplicable... (Fuck, what had been that guys name again? Arius?) For perhaps just a heartbeat, his amicable mien faltered. Maybe she had just spent too much time with humans? Humans were all right in K.V.s dazzling eyes, really. A funny, squishy lot. But nevertheless, all right. Perhaps it might be of some advantage after all; even if snow plates opted for alien methods. As long as they would be effective, he wouldn't so much as snort disapprovingly.

"So do you have a transport on standby? or are we going to have to commandeer one?"

Before so much as taking even one step in order to follow the female, K.V. Sent his gloved talon on an exploratory trip to one of his armor's many compartments. The diminutive, rectangular keydevice he fished out with his dextrous digits shone eerily. While it's luminosity was faint at best, it did add a speck of vivacity to Port Hanshan's lifeless decor. Instead of presenting it directly to Kruyt, he concealed it inside his fist which he brought up to his prominent chest. ”I figured that, as fascinating as Noveria's varied wildlife is, we MIGHT be better off getting to Pa... ncake 8 with the aid of something that can shield us. And has wheels of sorts. Mm.”

His flanged, relaxed tone faded into a satisfied croon as he finally extended his arm, opened his palm and presented the glowing little device. And only now his boots began to click against the harsh stone material of the bridge structure as he marched on. Only a few mere steps were needed to propel his form close enough to the spectre hopeful. ”You good to drive?”