All information presented herein is taken from Myetel’s Spirit of Redemption fanfiction. Canonical information can be found on Mass Effect Wiki,


The eldest offspring, if in close enough proximity, received the living memories of dying parents by biotic transmission.

Unbroken chains of more than three generations were unusual. Thus, Ruin is in a unique position as a historian, having five generations of the living memory of his people within him, over a thousand years of memory and history.

Decently long-lived, having life-spans of 200-250 years.

Having evolved on Etamis, in heavy gravity, their exoskeletons and large frames show that they spent quite a bit of their evolution in the water. Otherwise, they could not have evolved as large as they did; their own weight would have crushed them. On coming to the land, their chitin shells lightened commensurately, and offer as little protection now as skin does for a human, mostly reflecting UV rays and abrasions.

A million years of first, deliberate genetic alteration by the Reapers, and then, evolution in the confines of the Citadel has left them agoraphobic in the extreme. It is an act of will and courage to leave the Citadel, now that they have been 'awakened' by the efforts of Watches-the-Gates-of-Ruin, James Dempsey, the rachni, and the geth.


Aphras, Tosal Nym, Etamis, and Klendagon were originally occupied by the race which was eventually transformed into the Keepers. Their planetary empire was probably much larger than this, but again, there’s only so much information that is attested for the time period in question. Canonically, all four worlds suffered damage from mass effect-propelled projectiles hurled from space in the same time period. Thus, there is likely a connection.

Watches-the-Gates-Of-Ruin is the only known survivor of the pre-destruction Keepers. They were insectile, six-legged, but highly intelligent, and originally evolved in the heavy gravity of Etamis, where an exoskeleton was cumbersome, but helpful, and their six-legged mode of locomotion kept them steady in spite of falls. They were alone in the galaxy, but promoted the evolution of new life forms, specifically the Protheans. They uncovered the uploader relic on Junthor between 150-200 years before the Reapers attacked their worlds. The Citadel existed in their era, but they did not use it, finding it oddly grave-like and unoccupied.

Keepers derived their names from their jobs. The longer the name, the more honor and respect. They were not given, but earned. When their parents died, the eldest offspring received the living memories of them by biotic transmission, if they were close enough in physical proximity. Unbroken chains of more than three generations were unusual. Thus, Ruin is in a unique position as a historian, having five generations of the living memory of his people within him, over a thousand years of memory and history.


Memories. Forgotten worlds, once green, now shattered and sundered and dead. Creatures by the billions that looked like overgrown preying mantises, but which were people, all members of the great Hive together. Biotic, but not entirely a hive mind. Some vestiges, inklings, of individuality. A collective of individuals, as it were. Thousands of years of memory. Each passed down in love in the very last moment of life, from father to son to daughter to son to daughter, and finally, to Ruin himself. Each generation different from the last. Full knowledge of how their world had changed over the centuries. Full recollection of how the rains had come later three centuries ago than now, full recollection of a grandmother's love for a grandfather, full recollection of the history chants of In'kza'ra from one grandparent, full recollection of the games played by children in the streets of the Deathless City, full recollection of the poetry of She-Dances-with-the-Stars, full recollection of every single thing that made a people, a people. Hundreds of books of history, read, consumed, understood, and now, passed on… language and thoughts and philosophy and poetry and even banalities like what someone had for dinner on the night of 133 Armahe, in the year of the Quivering Dark… too much, too much, and all at once… and there was no more Dempsey. Just a throughput device. White absence of thought, all rage buried by the torrent of information, being sent from clear voices, datastream like an old-fashioned modem, modulating up and down in regular, monotonous patters… .and being taken from him.
— Chapter 106, War




Notable People


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