Nihlus didn’t know what to make of the fact that every single waitress in the Den recognized him. He had no memory of any of them. He downed a shot of quarian tequila, then asked for the whole bottle and settled into one of the secluded booths in the back. The slow rhythm of the music – drell, as far as he could tell – was resonating with his vocal cavity in a pleasant, dreamy way. For the first time since setting foot on the Normandy, he could relax, let his head roll back, let his eyes focus on infinity. With each drag from the bottle, he was feeling more and more like doing exactly what Saren had suggested: forgetting any commitment ‘he thought he owed him’ and reliving one of the hottest experiences of his youth: Garrus Vakarian.
Continue reading Persuasion
Well, take “new” with a grain of salt. I think I wrote this during 2009, before the first Elder Scrolls novel – which pretty much kills the point of this story – was published. Back at the day, there was still room for speculation about the true nature of the Landfall, and Report No. 1772 was a way to present my theory about it in the most indirect way possible. I considered submitting it to Temple Zero, but simply couldn’t, perhaps on account of excessive technobabble that doesn’t fit well with the mythopoetic atmosphere of that place. So here it is now, made public for the first time.
Image: tarnvogL @ DeviantArt
by confrater Qodvo Jr.
I file this final report and leave it to the Synod to debate or ignore. The request of the Curator of Ancient Theology and Paleonumerology Department of the Imperial Library has been fulfilled and my findings have been sent to him in a separate letter (filed under No. 1771).
This report contains a complete and accurate transcript of the correspondence that our opinion was requested about. My interpretation, threat assessment and recommendations follow the transcript in the interest of clarity.
Continue reading Report No. 1772
The airlock cycle had never taken this long before. Both of them stank so horribly that even the violent torrent of repressurization wasn’t able to blow it off and away from Saren’s nostrils. Disgusting damp swamp.
He hated dampness with a passion. He hated wet clothes, wet skin, wet planets. He hated sweating, sinking knee-deep in opaque green puddles of suspicious appearance, he hated being sprayed with mud while pushing the back of the lander (it was a damn lander how the hell did a lander manage to get stuck it was the driver wasn’t it it’s his fault it’s all his damn fault).
But most of all, he hated when people didn’t listen to him. When people were trying to sound smart instead of trying to be smart. When people failed to recognize the signs even when he intentionally broadcasted them on all the damn frequencies. When people who knew him pretended they didn’t. When people thought that because he wasn’t in a talkative mood it meant that he was immune to the muck they had both been wading through for hours. Gah!
Continue reading Unnerved and Unnerving
Shepard watched Nihlus stalk away with the Councilors. She was concerned. He looked like shit. His eyes were foggy, his voice lacked its usual strength, and his movements were sluggish. Two days had passed since Eden Prime; he wasn’t getting any better and attending the hearing had probably drained him of his last reserves. He excused himself from the company and went behind a door. The restroom.
Continue reading Played
Garrus stood in front of the Council Chambers for a long time after Nihlus had disappeared within. His omni was open, and Dad’s picture was staring at him from the contact list, with that signature frown furrowing his thick browplates. It wasn’t difficult to imagine the heart-warming greeting that would open the conversation – “What do you need now?” Or maybe a “Can it wait? I’m in the middle of something important.”
Continue reading Off With the Gloves