Clockwork's Turian Firefighter App

Steam Name: Clockwork
Steam ID: 1317129732739
Steam Profile Link: http://steamcommunity.com/id/1317129732739
Rp Experience: 4 years
Tell me a cool Mass Effect Fact: The fact that turians still have talons on their limbs suggests that they developed civilization more rapidly compared to other races.

Character Name: Cloelia Viriathus
Age: 24
What can your character do for our ship? (Muscle, Maintenance, Triggerman, Comedic Act, etc.): Firefighter, utilitiesman, diver
Character Equipment: M-3 Predator
Moral Alignment: (See Chart) Neutral Good
Strengths: Physically fit, articulate, adaptive, mechanically adept
Weaknesses: Tunnel vision, easily excited, underestimates teammates, little formal education
Character Backstory a.ka. how or why are you here (One paragraph minimum, be creative!):

“Cloelia.”

A tired-looking turian female looks up from the bowl in front of her, turning to face the speaker. Around her was situated a relatively rundown fire station. While waiting for the additional comment, she pondered how her life had gotten to this point.

Not so long ago as a young girl, she had seen a series of old human movies about firefighting. Late nights, early mornings, and time she should have spent pursuing her academics, she had always spent watching the films. As she grew older, these thoughts became more and more pushed back with the thought of sports, university, and the like.

It was a quiet morning on campus. Facing a lecture at 0630, she pulled herself out of bed, strapped shoes on her feet and recanted the morning ritual. After stepping into a hallway, the sound of a low hum into what sounded like a loud, imminent burning ripped from a side room a few dozen meters down. Something caught, and the whole hallway was up in flames in a few seconds along the side.

Somebody was shouting, smacking on what sounded like thin metal down the burning hall, and she glanced around. Immediately she kicked off her bag and jogged forward, careful not to step in what was on the opposite side. A panicked salarian face in the doorway shouted, gesturing to the smoke-lined orange room behind him, and she gestured back, getting him to stand aside. She leaned forward and brought her foot against the lock, breaking the weakly-secured door open, grabbing him. Cloelia grabbed his forearm, bringing the salarian behind her, bringing them both through the flames.

“You’ve been of great value to the station, and I wanted to thank on you behalf of all of us for your time here.”

She wasn’t listening, residing in the memories of her past, before looking at him again. In sweatpants, sneakers, and a way-undersized shirt was a portly human, telling Cloelia that the only job she was qualified to do was over. In his hands was a plaque with a clock on it, and although it looked cheap, there was heartfelt value to it. Inscribed were the letters ‘Cloelia Viriathus, 5 years.’

Biting her lip, she stood up, nodding and shaking the hand, glancing around at her other coworkers, before looking back at him and offering the imitation of a smile. “Thank you.” She says, dropping the shake and nodding at them all, taking her duffel bag from the floor and quickly walking out of the station, shaking off a rush of emotion.

Weeks passed without opportunity. Few places were hiring, with the downturn of the economy after the geth attacks. Finally, on a sketchy looking site on the extranet she found her ticket.

“Marine firefighter. Set your own hours. See the stars.”

Without a second thought, she packed her bags, locked her door, and said goodbye to the only colony she knew, ticket in hand for a world she had never heard of.

Talked about and accepted.