Deerius Lorday is a G.U.A.R.D.I.A.N. Sergeant onboard the GSV Providence.



Deerius sports the typical Green markings of the Lorday family, known for their agricultural heritage and metallic green pastures. His skin is a healthy peanut brown - well, at least healthy by the standards of Palaven's peanuts. He's in average shape for a soldier, not going out of his way to exercise for a support role.


Deerius mains the Phaeston SSW, a looted a M-15 Vindicator from Illium, and a looted Reegar Carbine from Elysium.

After Aftermath 2186/2187, Deerius was void of his original weapons, which expired on the Gandiva. He thus went back to his roots, and repurposed his father's surplus trophies. He now uses the M-76 Revenant and M-90 Indra.


- Tactical Scan

- Homing Grenades

- Cryo Ammunition

- Sabotage

- Defense Drone

- Supply Pylon


His armor is purple and black Armiger jetpack armor designed for Turian Saboteurs. If given the opporunity, he would likely color code it to match his favorite pair of headphones and not the other way around. One or Two Supply Pylons adorn his back, with Gold trimmed jetpack ports, used for finding high ground to provide covering and interlocking fire.


Before G.U.A.R.D.I.A.N.

Deerius had the standard expectations of any Turian; get through military training, find his spot in the universe and perform that with the work ethic his people were known for. He grew up listening to music of all kinds; Turian, Asari, Elcor and even Salarian, and spent much of his free time loading music off the extranet through less that legitimate means. He was a 'pirate' of sorts, and when one extranet commentor coined him ' πr8', the name stuck.

With his almost infamous use of musical technology being apparent, he was quickly trained in military communications protocols and the art of disguising and encrypting friendly signals while hampering enemy comms. His training division received some training from former Salarian STG, and quickly excelled in between stealing more music and other training drills.

Deerius became a reservist in the Cipritine garrison, which while not compelling work, gave him more opportunities to flood every frequency with modestly pleasing music. While he had no love for bringing to bear his combat skills, he did have an itch in that regard.

Deerius heard foreboding news that his father, a Blackwatch operative, was MIA for longer than expected. As those missions were classified, Deerius would never know how, why or even where his father might have met his end. Worst yet, any commendable service his father did would be recorded but secret from the public. For all intents and purposes, his father never really existed.

Deerius would withdraw from his duties, playing increasingly somber music and toning down his usually cheery disposition. When riots cut across Cipritine, Deerius was at first despondent. Not only were problems close to heart, but his planet as well. His superiors respectfully transferred him to G.U.A.R.D.IA.N. to honor services rendered from his father, and hopefully stop the awful music.

Deerius accepted, if only for the chance - the slim chance - that being promoted to someone of repute would allow him to see what happened to his father. That, and grace his allies and enemies with the sound of actually good music.

With G.U.A.R.D.I.A.N.

Deerius was assigned to the CSV Gandiva. He was involved in a several infiltrations, and the infamous Second Coffee Shop Massacre.


Having even more severe doubts about black operations, as well as any sort of command structure, Deerius spent a little over a month back home, doing menial farm work to clear his mind and conscious. Soon after, he went through military counselling, debating whether to quit GUARDIAN or not. Turian duty weighed more heavily on his mind, namely to make sure his prowess was where it was needed, but mostly because Turians follow even bad orders.


Deerius was assigned to Erebus squad, another stealth squad for the straight, clean support gunner. While wildly out of his element, Lorday provided inconsequential jet garrison support and a base of unreliable fire for the squad.

Aftermath 2186/2187

Now traitors to everyone that mattered, Deerius buried himself in other people's distant problems. Sticking to listening the few information channels they still had, he remained on the GSV Gandiva until the bombs blew the accursed ship to scrap.

Somewhat free of obligations, Deerius stuck back to doing the few things he was comfortable with. But not as himself. Reassuming the facade of Phasillus Varo, he made a nondescript sojourn back home. While not entirely welcome back home, he still took time to feel a part of his upbringing. While he didn't have long, as always, returning to his roots granted him stability that the stars could not.

While apprehensive to return to a terribly flawed organisation, it was the only duty left to him. While he cared extremely little to much of G.U.A.R.D.I.A.N. failing them seemed like a regret that would only add to his sins. Hitching a ride back on a Watcher's shuttle, he arrived on Ilium with what little he had.


Deerius was once a cheerful and outgoing Turian, but when his father went MIA, he withdrew and became solely apathetic. His eyes will scan the room, measuring up everyone worthy of interest, as his head bobs up and down to the beat of music constantly drivelled into his ears. No conversation usually takes place, as he never bothers to talk anymore - well, at least to strangers.

In combat, Deerius restricts talk to the bare essentials. He dislikes clogging up the few viable frequencies he leaves as his communication pylons blare unseemely music on almost every channel. Enemy movements and gruff acknowledgments on the plan are all that he embellishes, to the point where his gun usually makes more noise than he will.

Well... that was before. Deerius rarely shares his music, mostly because the individual he's now surrounded by wouldn't understand it. While he'll obliged the well meaning members of his crew, he holds a deep disdain for unnecessary harshness or measures.

Due impart to the lack of control on his major missions, Lorday's depression, learned helplessness and low self-esteem are somewhat precarious. He houses a desperate rage against any new moment where decisions, control and machinations are not his own. His faith in people is at it's usual low, and it's unlikely anyone can dissuade him from this conditioning.