"Any deadbeat can take a life. Easy. Meaningless. Takes decidedly more to spare a life or save one."
Roget Martius, otherwise falsely known as the Butcher of Cipritine due to being framed by James Talon, was a G.U.A.R.D.I.A.N. Operative aboard the CSV Muramasa.


Yellowish skin and green tinted bulbed eyes are framed were an almost perpetual glare of apathy. Uniform black and blue covered the majority of his body, as heavy Salarian armor covered his tall and Salarian frame. His M-55 Argus was over his right shoulder, with a M-77 Paladin at his waist. Time to time, he would flash a smug smile, but only because he knew that he was, in his mind, surrounded by absolute idiots.


Beneath his armor was a relatively muscular Salarian, likely from modest resistance weight training and conditioning from lugging around his armor. A few scars adorned his horns, likely flesh wounds taken when combatants shot the exposed part of his body when in cover.


- Assault Rifle: M-55 Argus (COPMOD; Recoil Dampener, Piercing Mod, Hybrid Scope)

- Heavy Pistol: M-77 Paladin (Underbarrel Laser Pointer, Extended Thermal Clip)

- Omni-Tool: Two Nexus X, SLI (Sentinel Linked Interface) (Armali Council)


Armali Council Heavy Armor. Painted uniform black and blue in accordance with C-Sec uniform requirements.


Born in the Martius clan, a relatively low profile family with a strong defined military background, Roget enjoyed a painfully simple life in a band of brothers. Expected to join a miltary outfit or prominent mercenary group, Roget joined Citadel Security under dreamy eyed respect of their role in the Galactic community.

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

Initiations and training did not wear down his resolve, and eventually at the age of 13 he graduated in the top 10% of his class. Roget transfered to the Citadel, being assigned to foot patrol and minor thefts, as most new recruits were. His technical aptitude led him closer to the Cyber Crimes and Restricted Weaponry divisions, and took an active interest in the novel threats possible on the Citadel.

His true calling was realized when he was elected for the COPMOD (Citadel Operations Peculiar Means Of Decamping) initiative, a relatively small group of specialized hostage extractors and less than ideal evidence gathering. Using his sound Tech skills and inate dropbear skills, he quickly defined a career over 8-9 years with numerous successful extractions and few close calls. Everything from Batarian bombers, Salarian smugglers and Hanar hackers was swiftly planned and dismantled.

Said close calls inevitably revolved around Krogan. Roget began to respect and rely on his trusty C-Sec weapons, valuing the variety of close range non-lethal options COPMOD continually evolved and updated to an ever evolving array of weapons, technology and biotics the Citadel had to deal with.

Honed, refined and diverse Tech skills and Combat armoring made him a stand-out candidate, and was put forward for the G.U.A.R.D.I.A.N. initiative. Transfered to the spearhead of the next political maneuver, he's poised to put behind the grind of C-Sec to pursue what is hopefully (but not likely) a cleaner use of his skills.

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

Roget was assigned to the CSV Muramasa. He was involved in the ship-wide event CSV Muramasa: Every Breath You Take, where he lost his life.

He was a part of the Hostage Team that was sent into the [ insert name I'll make up later ] District in Cipritine with the goal of rescuing a series of high-value targets. After making several tactical blunders and cornering the last remaining enemy soldier, he was betrayed by Operative James Talon, who framed him for the murder of three unarmed turian prisoners just minutes before. Because of this, Roget is remembered as the Butcher of Cipritine. Grifter, believing Talon's lies to be true, set up trip mines whilst Talon threw the salarian operative face-first into them, detonating them and liquefying him almost instantly.


'Roget', named after the ancient Earth thesaurus, was a mostly typical Salarian. He largely tried do right by others, especially those taken advantage of or the downtrodden, and had no qualms with lethal equal force when prompted. Unflappable but judicious arrogance colors his hasty speech, making it known when others were wrong. Uncharacteristically, he was patient, not very talkative and generous with a rare flirty side when prompted. Cool and collected in combat, and somewhat jovial outside of it, he embodied a balance few salarians have.

As an officer on the force, he continually embodied a friendly exterior when engaging with the general public. Once situations turned aggressive, he retained that disposition until equal and opposing force was necessary. In more rigid and planned missions, Roget became utterly ruthless, often dropping out of communications and finishing the objectives as a lone wolf. Perhaps he didn't rely on or trust anyone. Perhaps he was just overconfident. It was a matter of perspective.


  • The Dalatrass of the Martius clan picks famous names in history based on birthdate. Salarians believe in reincarnation, and that picking a famous historical name will increase affinity to successful individuals. Thus, Roget shares a name with Peter Mark Roget, a British physician, natural theologian and lexicographer.

Coffee Shop Massacre Debriefing

Citadel Interview Room #5
17:46 Hours Citadel Time

The Salarian looked down on the table, taping two digits as it beat a distracted tune. He only paused to look up when his debriefer entered through the automated doors, flashing green from red before swiftly closing.

“Captain Alsha.” He curtly greeted, giving a lazy salute more from exhaustion than improperness.

She nodded back. “At ease Roget.” She reluctantly remarked, her teal blue skin curving as her white facial markings raised an eyebrow at his remark. He wasn’t usually shattered like this, and she understood why. More so, all the other officers had declined the debrief so soon, whereas Roget was the only one to have volunteered early.

She guessed why.

“You seem to be handling this – “

“Quickly.” He interrupted, finally meeting her eye to eye. Salarians thought fast, and processed their emotions of all sorts at that rapid rate. Word of mouth was he was infuriated just an hour ago, but he seemed more melodramatic as of now.

“You’ve declined to see the C-Sec psychologist.”

“Yes. The other voice in my head sorted that through already.” He remarked, giving a hollow but reassuring smile.

Alsha raised an eyebrow and allowed herself a small scoff of a laugh. “You’ll still need to see her if you want to resume active duty of course.”

“…Very well.”

“Now…” She reiterated, getting back to the task at hand as she spread a pile of datapads across the table. “Your report.”

Roget raised one eyebrow.

“I’d like to hear it from you.” Alsha requested, crossing a leg to appear comfortable.

Roget leaned back.

Roget Martius Apollo’s Café : Citadel 11:33 Hours Citadel Time

Roget stood on the balcony, overlooking the protest as a swathe of Turians and tinges of Asari, Salarians, and far more minorities hidden amongst them made themselves heard.

When the protest request was finalized, officers from almost all five of the Wards were temporarily transitioned. This was a politically charged issue, and would likely get heated to a brawl soon enough. Whilst many of them would have preferred to protest near the Council chambers, the preaching was limited to designated Presidium areas. The protest was visible but highly manageable as per the Executor’s orders, and floor 5 was the place to congregate.

The rest of the C-Sec officers were distributed along the edges and railings; prime vantage points and such. Riot C-Sec forces were in reserve in case a riot occurred, but until they knew where, they had to project a façade of order and non-aggression.

Carrying his M-55 Argus like many C-Sec Officers would have sent the wrong message. Instead, the compact but powerful M-77 Paladin adorned his hip, a reminder of his authority, but mostly the balanced emphasis on policing and military.

His thoughts and musings are interrupted as a dispatch ran through his earpiece.

“Be advised, you have a dozen… no, three dozen Krogan heading to floor 5.” A crisp Turian voice rang out, as Roget scanned to his left.

Roget quickly tapped his Omni-tool to comment back. “COPMOD 1-4 here. Do they have weapons?” He requested, letting the static pause as he watched a wave of armoured Krogan shove their way to the main area. The Krogan didn’t have enough pull to request and serious weapon permits. On occasion, Krogan bodyguards and mercenaries were allowed registered weapons, but… then again, every one of them was a walking weapon themselves.

With at least thirty of them however, things could get bloody. The Salarian unholstered his pistol discretely, unloading the Taser ammunition and loading live standard ammunition. Between the impending Krogan and the upswinging protest, he doubted anyone would notice.

“They’re Krogan. Of course they brought their weapons.” The voice rang out again, which Roget scowled at.

“Bring around the Riot squad. Recommend lethal force.” He echoed, moving from his position as weary eyes looked upon the opposing ideologies getting closer.

The lead Krogan looked down on the empty protests and threats whirled around.

Vocal Turians made their thoughts known.

“Go home brutes!”

“Krogan are what’s wrong with the Galaxy!”

“The Genophage ends Krogan Rage!”

The last one was catchy, and Roget had heard it often.

“The Genophage ends Krogan Rage!”

“The Genophage ends Krogan Rage!”

The Krogans snarled and grunted, and for a moment the crowd quivered. But they didn’t stop their chant. As a group, they were invincible.

But so were the Krogan

And in the most eye widening experience the Krogans charged down the steps, accompanied by the war drums of Claymore shotguns. The crowd shrieked as mists of blood and fallen bodies were left behind as predators combed down the reeds.

“Gunfire on Presidium D24 5!” Roget yelled, picking up his pace as he levelled his heavy pistol at the Krogan rear guard. His Tech Armor initiated, adding glowing orange plates to his Armali Council C-Sec armor. With no cover, officers all across the level crouched and hugged walls, taking trained shots at the Krogans.

Superficial shots barraged as minute Kessler rounds pinged Krogan armor. At worst, a few of them staggered as kinetic barriers kicked, but as soon as they intermingled with the crowd – those escaping and those still embroiled in the bloodbath.

They never trained any of them for something like this.

His earpiece rang out with call outs; panicked ones around him, and promises of reinforcements from those distanced from this. Roget made a tactical advance, his Paladin levelled as he got closer.

He deployed a shimmering Omni-shield, a brilliance of orange complimenting his Tech Armor, as both caught the full brunt of a Claymore blast. It destabilized, but reformed. He continued his approach as the Krogan growled, preparing to charge.

And charge he did.

Roget kept his stance predictable, before shifting at the last second. His Paladin was outstretched straight, exactly at head level, waiting for the Krogan to get into range –

- **BLAP**.

A single heavy round at point blank punctured the Krogan’s temple, right underneath the Kinetic barrier and into a deadly trajectory through its skull. The limp momentum continued, which Roget countered by shunting his entire body to the left, rolling the Omni-shield to glance the mass of armor and flesh unceremoniously to his right.

The next Krogan had a hammer of all things.

“Who the hell let them bring Hammers and Claymores here?!?!?!” A voice rang out over his earpiece, before it was swiftly snuffed out in a quenching noise and static.

Roget summarily agreed, as the Hammer wielding Krogan loaded it with sort of Tech effect. He hadn’t seen much in terms of melee weapons on the Citadel, let alone anything distinctly Krogan, and this was it.

He quickly switched back to Taser ammunition, which flipped between holographic holders on his second Omni-tool.

  • Thwap Thwap Thwap Thwap….!*

The Salarian quickly fired four shots into the Kinetic barrier as the Krogan charged, sparks flying as all four shots rapidly connected, causing distortions in the barrier. The ammunition quickly fizzled out as the shields disappeared, and Roget lined up his next weapon.

Roget’s Omni-shield collapsed as his Omni-tools flashed white, as the Nexus Xs sprayed a vicious spread of Cryogenic material. The brunt of the blast hosed down the Krogan.

And Roget made sure to swing them downwards, catching the reflective floor in the cone of cold.

The effect wasn’t obvious, but soon, the Krogan slipped. The hammer flailed as the entire body thumped and slid across the metallic floor.

Roget casually sidestepped it, discharging the Thermal clip as he fired the next clip. Even at low velocity, each shot punctured the weakened armour as electrified gouts of Krogan blood sprayed out in entertainment.

He barely emptied the next clip before the sheer force of a Claymore blast sundered his Tech Armor, as it shattered across the chest and shoulders. Roget staggered back, rolling to his knee, as he tried to acquire who was shooting at him.

“SALARIAN.” The voice boomed, as the lead Krogan reload cancelled his weapon and fired it again, shattering the entirety of Roget’s Kinetic Barrier and Tech Armor as the power barely had time to redistribute.

Roget initialized his Tactical cloak, quickly rolling towards the nearby wall, before a Claymore shot wrecked the floor next to him.

“COME OUT AND FIGHT. COWARD.” The voice prattled. “HAH.”

Roget grimaced, holstering his pistol. In the Undercover variant of Tactical Cloak, his auxiliary and weapon power could regenerate his shielding, especially while cloaked. The Salarian dived for the opposing wall, swiftly before another shotgun blast ringed out around him.

“YOUR KIND DELIVERED THE GENOPHAGE.” The voice yelled. “AS WE HAVE PAYED BLOOD, SO SHALL YOU.” He raged, reloading his shotgun again vertically.

Roget yanked out his Paladin again, firing from a prone position. Five tiny thwaps rang out, each meeting a blue barrier.

Biotics? Ah crap….

“TRY A REAL MANS WEAPON.” The Krogan embellished, as blue aura surged around him. Roget quickly got to his feet, deployed his Omni-shield –

- and held it in front of himself moments before the Biotic Charge impacted, sending him sprawling backwards in a sea of holographic splinters.

Another Claymore round sounded out, and this one finally found Roget’s armor. Serrated shards hit the hardened weaves and stuck fast. If there was ever an advantage of a spindly body, it was being a hard target for a blunderbuss.

Roget groggily readied himself, as the Krogans in view steadily beat people to a pulp, blasted them to the floor, or yelled in some sort of victory.

And he now had the privilege of receiving the first boon, as the Krogan foot stomped on his face.

“NOT SO TOUGH NOW, SALARIAN.” The voice chortled, readying the Claymore to finish him.

And like the sound of Great Eagles on the wind, the harkening sound of Argus fire lit up the commons.

C-Sec Shuttles zoned in on the open terrace, as C-Sec Officers and Riot police fired out of the side doors. Withering and deafening burst fire scoured the platform, as high velocity scoped fire dropped Krogans and protestors alike. Anyone imposing or carrying a weapon was shot down with judicious justice.

Roget watched as the leader above him was perforated in the most relieving was possible. For posterities sake, he overloaded the last vestiges of his Firewall Tech Armour, letting it explode outwards in a fiery burst, shredding what was left of the gory armoured mess.

And naturally, the Krogan toppled over him, muffling the sounds of pained agony from all sides.

Putting the reps and bodywork to good use, Roget lifted the hulking mass of the Krogan leader, flopping it over and slowly getting back to his feet. He managed to see a select few of the Krogans and protestors still escaping. Hopefully they’d be caught, but as he checked himself, he deemed himself to be in no condition to pursue. They’d catch them later, or on a different day.

He started a localised Medi-gel application on his suit, as well as one for his forehead as he nursed his head with his Omni-tool. When it finally charged, he felt a few of the pains subside, but he knew there were some things Medi-gel couldn’t heal.

“Medical support is on its way.” The voice in his earpiece slowly sounded to attention. With his hyperfocus on the foray, other details came to light. He noticed the writhing wounded around him, and got to work, prepping Medi-gel reserves into the situation at hand.

“No.” Roget answered.

Roget Martius Citadel Interview Room #5 17:47 Hours Citadel Time

Alsha quizzically looked at him. “Hmmm.”

“It’s obvious what happened.” Roget reasoned. “More obvious is the incredulously relaxed armament protocols.”


A modicum of silence was allowed.

“What is going to be done?” Roget asked, turning the table slightly.

“There’s no easy answer to that.” Alsha answered,

“Let me guess. SPECTRES.” Roget spat.

“Doubtful. Not enough firepower. Direct Council Bias.”

“Fighting Unknown Civilian Killers.” Roget remarked, sing songy.

Alsha glared. “Oh Goddess no…”

Roget shrugged. “What then?”

Alsha tapped the table then spoke.