Betty-Tarian Application, by Gent.

Steam Name: Gent
Steam ID: STEAM_0:0:124878024
Profile Link: http://steamcommunity.com/id/FullStrateish/
Age: 19
How long have you been rping?: About a long time, approximately five to six years overall and two or so months on the server
How did you find us?: Word of Mouth.
Have you been banned from Singularity Gaming? No.

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Name Kranne Can'noroh
Age : Thirty-Six.
Species: Batarian.
Why do you want to roleplay a character of said species?: For three reasons - one regarding their unique four-set of eyes, there being a general lack of Batarians in general, and to ensue probable tension between his race and his career when in battle.
How familiar are you with it?: Enough to know that they can be snarky bastards on politics, and that a lot of them generally distrust Krogans, Vorcha and Humans. I know they're presumably sharp predators and speak gruffly.
MOS (Military Occupational Specialty): Combat Medic.
Why do you want to roleplay within said MOS?: Necessity. There absolutely needs to be some more combat medics.
How OOCly familiar are you with the topic? (Ex. Combat Medic - OOC Knowledge of Medical Procedures): Very little, aside from what AdventMEC told me from his time playing one - that being the procedure for removing a bullet and getting a marine/other back up to speed. However, I'm hoping that nothing else happens aside from spare bullet wounds. and if not, I'll be sure to attempt research according to the situation.
You do understand as this is a private server and you have filled out a Application you can be removed from the Server or have your Character taken away within reason at any moment: Yes.
Do you understand that any medical disabilities your character has would be present on a work form - And thus may make your character ineligible for a job in the Military? : Understood.
Are you also aware that this is a Joint-Task-Force Military, and that your character will be held to the standards of a soldier?: Affirmative, sir.
Two Paragraph Backstory - Five to Seven Sentences per Paragraph.

(Following the trend of the last application, I'm going to try and develop this to an interview standard. Again, if not to your liking, I can rewrite it in the normal operation - let me know if this is sufficient enough.)

It is sunrise on a planet that knows no mountain, as plains of desolated white deserts are crossed over on a dingy Kodiak, aiming for a small village situated right across from the nearest lake. Upon landing, the Kodiak is surrounding by barely dressed batarians, appearing to be pirates holding bootleg weaponry and almost shivering upon contact with the spacecraft, aiming their barrels straight ahead. An armistice occurs for about ten or so minute with wide eyes and accumulated heaving from both ends, before the aliens drop their firearms and approach it cautiously. Out the cockpit comes three human beings - Two males, one female, unprepared for their meeting wearing stock winter clothing with matching Ushanka. The female gives a strained meek request to seek out one particular villager, located in the town clinic. And as the batarians tag her along, looks of dismay and general distrust resonate from the accumulated tension. After all, when in a soaking hot desert with aliens who have a knack to hate and assault on the human race, you could be on better planets.

After a very tedious five minutes of escort, the scene revolves onto an interior gone far beyond any point of repair. Compacted with scurrying pests of an unknown froglike species, and equipment piled around - vestiges encumbered with dust throughout the black-and-white tile floor - these would feasibly be some of the worst conditions a clinic could face.
Visibly, five lone batarian doctors work with what little squabble remains, while an incoherent echoing of moans directing from behind the dark blue curtain near the end of the barely appropriated-sized room. The female gestures for one of the doctors on the scene - one smoking what appears to be a human cigar, oddly enough, while keeping two eyes on the female. The doctor abides, following her out of the sight of decay.

From this transgression we put our eyes upon the man of the hour, Combat Medic Kranne Can'noroh as the interviewer engages in a lengthy conversation, right on the porch with both sitting in two rocking chairs.

Interviewer: You mentioned before you were "about ready for something new" on the application, if you can recall.

Kranne: That was about a few months ago...so, you're a little late on that notice - but I'll let it slide.

Interviewer: Well, uh...thank you for being generous?

Kranne: Nah, pleasure's mine. Don't let a sweet thing like you freeze up for not showing on cue.

Interviewer: I thought Batarians hated humans..immensely despised them, rather.

Kranne: I'll admit I'm not too happy about the overabundance of "Human Hospitality", but that doesn't mean I should put individuals to that standard. You're not the whole Systems Alliance.

Interviewer: So you aren't keen on Systems Alliance, or..

Kranne: If we were talkin' politically here, we'd be here until the heat vaporized all but a fraction of those cute little sugar plum cheeks of yours. We're talkin' about my admittance now.

Interviewer: Well, I brought it up because we got many veterans from Systems Alliance, and...well, really, you shouldn't be as applicable as you seem to. I thought Batarians were still outlawed from Citad-

Kranne: Well from what I heard, they're itching for more combat medics and none are takin' the cake, so they're probably going to go through lengths of the unfathomable to reach in.

Interviewer: Right, first question - your portfolio said you worked on about four settled worlds, including the home planet..

Kranne: That's about right. I live to serve, didn't serve to live or whatever sort of mahogany people call it...but yes, I've extracted plenty of bullet wounds on the battlefield, and kept my good brothers away from the claws of death.

Interviewer: You also mentioned something about being discharged by your last unit.

Kranne: Honorable discharge after a long duration fightin' off ruffian pirates turning against us. Interestin' story too, and I was the only medic throughout. I'll give you the short and simple of it...watch your back, friends can turn on you easily.

Interviewer: Alright...but, like I said before, we have Alliance boys on deck, so we might have some conflict if you're really against it.

Kranne: I can...deal with it, indue time.  Like I said, I judge solely by the individual, and if they keep to their sector I'll certainly keep to mine..if you understand my gist.

Interviewer: Second would be to mark down any sort of illnesses you might have left unlisted on the application - you'd be surprised on how many straight up lie on it. But moving on, you said you had a minor case of PTSD and not much else?

Kranne: I've cast aside any PSTD...well, as best to my ability anyway. Some rummages here and there remain dormant in my noggin' - but besides that, there's nothing that comes to mind. I'd argue that I'm at my pinnacle, if we're being honest.

Interviewer: Well, I can say that your resume is pretty solid as it is...there's one scratch here, however; Says that you deserted the battlefield once the reapers hit your planet.

Kranne: That's probably an intentional misinterpretation - I denied the fight so I can swing over to another part of the planet, to protect my immediate family. I didn't suppose the higher-ups would let me have that privilege, yet I had no ounce of care for their thoughts at the time...it was a really dramatic emergency, and they already had spare medics to their disposal. But, moving on, I didn't really desert the planet. That would just be cowardice.

Interviewer: Alright, well...if you're up for the task, and honorable enough to commit to Citadel standards, we can make the exception to let you on board. That being said, you'll probably have to deal with tension.

Kranne: When the time comes, I'll be sure to comply accordingly. Promise on my third eye, too.

Interviewer: Alright, well Mister Can'noroh, I think we've made it on good terms. I'll present my findings to the higher ups and it'll be at their choice to let you in or not.

Kranne: Well, I kinda find it odd you never even bothered giving me your name, with whatever else.

Interviewer: I already transferred my contact information on email - Macey Formant, if you're not up to-

Kranne: Ah, email, shoulda' known. Kinda think that 'ole deal is shabby, but I'll give my apologies anyway. I figured you'd just head straight on in.

Macey: It's fine, sir. I'll just get back to base and see what they have to say about it.

Kranne: Well mis' Formant, I hope you hava' good day now.

Macey: As to you, Can'noroh.

As she is escorted back by the armed guards keeping an eye on her person, she lets out a small wave to the Batarian medic, seating herself back into the Kodiak as her comrades prepare the hulking machine to take flight. Soonafter, the Kodiak begins to hover above the desert plains, and the interviewer sneaks a glance back at the encrusted, deteriorating clinic from high in the planets stratosphere before blasting out of orbit and returning to her order of operations.

Can'noroh rocks back in his chair for a minute or so as she drifts out of his view, continuing to puff on his cigar and let free a sturdy exhale of smoke. After this moment of leisure, once the Interviewer has flown to the stars, he climbs out and starts to make way back into the clinic - until he can get a positive answer on his recruitment, there still remains much work to be done.