Any tension that supposedly filled the room with nerves, paranoia, seems to dissipates when he greets her on cue within entering. In confinement of the spacious office — one such as the office of higher politicians — her body stayed frozen by the door, eyes returning a focused look to the Primarch when upon command to move even the weakest of muscles in her core. A fluttering sensation beginning to shatter the glass within prisons of her chest, leaking away any poisons that was once on the brain, now released by the only biotic within the embassy floors full of turians. (Don’t think too hard, Cleeton. He might bite without warning. ) Resulting a breath:
Simple and short, Gaelia finally musters up every last bit of her strength to approach him as he turns on angle to her — accepting the extended hand with a firm clasp of her own under fitted gloves. A stiff shake later, the vanguard nods curtly to the Primarch. ” If it is here, then certainly, I’ll accept a glass. Thank you. “
He made her feel like a sᴏʟᴅɪᴇʀ, something she wanted to be.
Manners or not, she tries her best to stay her best in his presence. Cue to smile, nod or speak politely — then she will aim to please. She represents a group, in her own perspective — she will act and be the icon of them all. The past of mistrust needed to end, questions needed to be answered, and actions needed to be thrusted to find the solution. If that meant doing as he asked, without batting an eye, to prove something good — then whatever it takes. Her body stays rigid to where she last stood, lacing her hands together behind her back; fingers connected to each other to keep the posture tight.
” My time is not wasted, sir. Among other things, this is top priority. I have all the time you have to offer. “
For what little personal allowances he still permitted himself to feel, the Primarch liked Cleeton already. Through the amorphous vapor of memory, he saw himself reflected in her soldier’s stance, the obvious pride she carried for the role that she had earned. He would not so blatantly display his preference with a nodding gesture of approval, but something to his mannerisms eased in a certain, indefinable way.
Victus did, however, turn to the refreshments, amber liquid poured into fine, Serrice crystal. He offered her a glass and jerked his chin towards the stark white couches arrayed tastefully in his office. An inherited thing, all of this. So much wasted space. It was more like a damn lounge than the official bureau of a head of state. Mystifying. Still, there was nevertheless a turian touch.
Angular works of art and understated, almost spartan minimalism. He might not be able to maintain the illusion that he still stood at the helm of his flagship, but at least this place wasn’t wholly unlike home.
“Well said.” He replied simply, settling himself upon ‘L’ cross-section of the ivory divan. He took a sip, savoring the burn of the alcohol as it seared his gullet, and set the brandy on the sheer glass coffee table. “I thought you would be the appropriate candidate to help me with some…reforms I’ve been considering." He caught her eyes with his steady stare.
"It is an embarrassment to have been a council race for almost two millennia and still permit the ignorant and divisive schism plaguing our people. Although rare, as you know, among turians, the manifestation of biotic ability should no longer be held with the same suspicion and contempt that should have bled away with the chaos and naivety from before the Unification War.”
He leaned forward, elbows against his knees, hands steepled together. “You may turn down this position and submit new recommendations. This is hardly expected of an officer like yourself, but I would like you to advise me. I confess, I know only the function of Cabals. I know only how to direct and utilize them. I do not, could not understand or speak with the authority you could regarding the thoughts of its members. I would like to integrate biotic turians back into our society…” Victus said meaningfully, “If you would suggest it.”
To be quite honest, I think of myself as rather approachable and lenient regarding roleplays. Here are some guidelines, which can and will be updated as I see fit. Additionally, I would recommend that you read this page for a brief introduction to the mun.
№1 I have the right to refuse to roleplay. I don’t need a reason. I don’t need to offer a reason. Usually, it’s because I’m bogged down with threads, or I want to focus on the ones I have. Please understand and be respectful, and I will be respectful in return.
№2 Similarly, I reserve the right to unfollow at any time. Same rules apply — I don’t need to have or give a reason. Typically, this will occur when we haven’t interacted ever or in a long time, and/or there are too many ooc posts on my dash and I want to keep things clean. It’s truly nothing personal against you.
№3 I sometimes do drop threads. I drop more often that I like. So of course, you can, too. Sometimes roleplays or character interaction moves beyond that particular thread. Sometimes inspiration just doesn’t come to me. 95% of the time, however, I’ve just saved it to drafts or I happened to miss it. You can always step forward to communicate with me. If it’s been a few days and I haven’t replied, it’s perfectly fine to casually let me know.
№4 On that note — communicate! I LOVE to talk ooc. It’s fun to get to know my partner and I think the roleplays turn out better when we discuss things outside of the thread. Is it getting stale? Do you have a new idea? Do you want to drop it? Are you uncomfortable with something I wrote? Please let me know.
№5 Not a law, but a recommendation. Feel free to ask for my skype if we’re mutuals. I always reserve the right to decline, regardless of the circumstances.
№6 I will not roleplay with personals, and generally prefer that all roleplay blogs have a dossier or an “about” equivalent.
Theme made by me. Do not steal.
For the moment, the automatic assumption is that all roleplays take place at any point after the Tuchanka: Bomb mission. This can change if otherwise specified. Alternatively, interactions may take place on the Citadel, the Normandy’s war room, various embassies, etc.
Public Access Terminal. View file: Primarch Adrien Victus
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Primarch Adrien Victus
[ Galactic standard years: 61 ]
[ Weight: not on record ]
[ Height: 203 cm ]
[ Gender: male ]
Wife: Calpurnia Victus [deceased]
Son: Tarquin Victus [deceased]
_»Personal history:
Segment under recalibration
Born 2125 on the planet Palaven. Neither records nor facial tattooing indicate that Victus was birthed in any Cipritine hospitals or clinics. [Redacted] Although on file, personal history has been removed from public record upon the Primarch’s request, citing his preference for privacy. Applications to view these files must be submitted to the Ministry of Home Affairs and undergo an approval process, as per section 12.41.83.
_»Medical profile:
Enjoying an extended, quality-enhanced lifespan similar to the 150-year average expected by the human species, Victus’ sixty-one years does not hold him back from engaging in active conflict. A diligent and seasoned veteran, he submits himself to a sustained and rigorous routine to maintain his carefully conditioned physical fitness and battle-readiness.
The Global Assessment of Functioning considers psychological, social, and occupational functioning on a hypothetical continuum of mental health illness. Primarch Victus’ mental health profile on this scale scores low relative to healthy individuals. Testing found indications of high levels of stress, anxiety, and depression present and modifying behavioral patterns. [Redacted]
_»Military hallmarks:
The name Victus has upheld a decorated military legacy since the Unification War. Adrien has continued that tradition, from the early away missions that earned him his first stripes in the legionnaire to his blisteringly successful strategies that led to a field promotion from colonel to brigadier general during the Relay 314 Incident. The general’s savvy, perceptiveness and brutal precision allowed him to excel in his military career. His meteoric rise through the meritocracy has been further propelled by sheer determination and resounding fortitude. If the art of war were a symphony, he would be its composer.
Victus’ practiced ability to command manifests in his passion and skill for tactical manipulation. It has been argued, mainly from turian high command, that the general’s unorthodox methods are reckless and impulsive, when really they are carefully calculated and have provided innovative strategies. Though the ethics behind his adroit mind have been put into question, no one can deny the effectiveness of his decisions on the battlefield.
In both training exercises and trial-by-fire on the mortar-scarred battlefield, Victus led his command to thwart hostiles with exacting skill and canny foresight. One of Victus’ most recent and notable victories exemplifies his martial intellect. During a brief war waged on Taetrus in 2185, Victus permitted a salarian spy ring to throw their outfits against turian separatists that the general was sent to eliminate, holding his men back until the skirmishers had decimated each others’ forces. This tactic earned him some criticism for the risky and ethically unsound strategy. However, Victus argued that he conserved more of his men and resources with this method and steadfastly maintained that he regretted none of his choices.
Indeed, the general sees little shame in being an opportunist in regards to warfare. Flank the enemy unseen; let them weary themselves and exhaust their resources; then, move in for the kill — swift, effective, and crushingly brutal. Vae victis. His modus operandi may cause many to question the general’s methods and how he thinks, but the general’s sole focus is loyalty and honor to his soldiers and his people.
In 2186, Victus served on Menae in an organized effort to hold back the Reaper forces. It was during this conflict that his predecessor, Primarch Fedorian, was killed when his shuttle was shot down by the enemy. According to his impressive rank in the meritocracy and the Hierarchy’s stringent succession protocol, Adrien Victus was to inherit the mantle of Primarch of Palaven. Like the ideal of the quintessential turian he had both managed to defy and epitomize, he quelled his regret and hesitation, stepping forward to assume his new role. Yet, Victus vowed he would fight to his dying breath to stop the Reapers.
{ Victory…at any cost.}
_»Personality profile:
In his youth, Victus was a more open, impulsive turian. The instigator of conflicts more often than not, he earned little favor with his elders until he learned to marshal himself and others with a cool mind and far-seeing prudence. His fire may have been tempered, but even curbed flames maintain their wildness — and can bite and scar and sear just as hot. Indeed, the fire still simmers in his belly. He is slow to anger, but he rages as bitingly as Palaven’s scorched summers when provoked.
General Victus is older than the average soldier, having reached a position in life that draws from both experience and a steadfast, unwavering demeanor. He is resolved in his actions and rarely acts as he did in his tempestuous and unbridled youth — which varied from idiotic dares to downright recklessness. Victus is someone who comes across as stern and abrupt in his commands, but with a sense of care and underlining compassion as well which has sparked admiration in the soldiers he treats as equals.
War is in his blood, and his soldiers are more than just anonymous weapons; they are his brother-in-arms. Victus’ allegiances are such that he would gladly fight and die standing beside you, a trait for which he has gained recognition and garnered adoration and loyalty from those he fought alongside. To lose a man under his watch is a personal loss that is not shown, but felt, and kept with him throughout his life. Ask the general to list the servicemen and women that have given their lives for the Hierarchy under his command, and he will answer is precise and unswerving detail. A soldier to the marrow, his very being calls for him to be unyielding in his decisions and to accept the loss which war brings without remorse — the greatest of honors for his people is to be remembered, and Victus makes sure to remember them all. His dead, his many dead, are never forgotten.
“The strategist in me admires their brutality. The turian in me knows I’m watching the destruction of fifteen thousand years of civilization. My civilization.”
Primarch Victus is a somber and silent individual when alone. He is an entity who spends his days putting forth all his time and energy into others, only to then find himself at a loss of what to do when it is just him; restless and agitated if he can not find something to occupy his thoughts with. Such things are maddening in a sense, the ever-present silence drowning him, only to be overwhelmed with past transgressions and memories he does not care to recollect. This troublesome rumination was a non-issue when he was still a soldier, when there was no time for sitting, no time for recollecting or waiting or bureaucracy and answering diplomatic transmissions for hours on end.
Victus is utterly obdurate, which time has proven to be both his strength and his weakness. The suddenness of being thrust into a position that the turian general thought would never come during his lifetime had abruptly shattered his world, and placed the battle-forged leader into an entirely different environment from what he was used to — one that he must adapt to and shape to suit his purposes — like any other war-ravaged zone.
_»Current status:
Following the death of Primarch Fedorian and Victus’ subsequent appointment in his stead, he has remained Primarch of Palaven. He has no remaining family left in this fractured galaxy, and continues to throw himself into ensuring the rebuilding of his homeworld and upholding relations with the Hierarchy’s allies [while keeping careful watch on its enemies].
Yet, even though it was not something he personally ever wished to be tasked with, Adrien dutifully accepted the position and made sure to serve diligently in his new rank for the good of his race. He lives by the unspoken code he always has: emotions and desires are trivial vis-a-vis the needs of the many, which far outweigh the needs of himself or his loved ones.
Victus has been forced to employ many methods appropriate for his new position, mowing down diplomats with both mind games and his stubborn resolve, offering peace where previously there had been hostility, and utilizing tactics that he has found to be invaluable within his new position — unusual methods and skills now implemented and used to gain tactical advantage over politicians.
However, a void has begun to open within the battle-hardened warrior. While his schedule is always busy following the Reaper War, the old general has been left with little to fight for. For an individual bred and raised on war, on action, there is now far too much time where he is left with just himself and his thoughts. However, Victus refuses to let this interfere with his responsibilities; his duty and loyalty belong to his people ‘til the day he dies… Victus prays that the Spirits will grant that it is at least with a rifle grasped in his talons rather than in an office.
_»Session Inactivity Notice. Time expired. Logging out …
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