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Topic: Flesh & Blood - A CyberPunk Game
Subject: Yup...
Yes, Casino is cuffed. If you'll recall, that's one of the first things they did at the scene of the shootout. Right now, they haven't actually charged you with anything, but you are being held on suspicion of being engaged in a firefight and as a witness to the action. The cuffs are standard procedure for NCPD. As are the Cyberware Jammers.
Posted on 2016-11-07 at 08:49:41.
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Topic: Supernatural Q&A thread
Subject: I'm enjoying the posts.
Looking forward to the next phase.
Posted on 2016-11-07 at 08:47:42.
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Topic: Star Trek: the Edge of Duty Q&A
Subject: I shall join the masses.
Fan of the post!
Looking forward to more... from everyone!
I am in Florida on business right now, but will attempt to keep up.
Posted on 2016-11-03 at 22:10:55.
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Topic: Star Trek: the Edge of Duty
Subject: What?
Stardate 2365.02.09 (Tuesday - 42137.6)
USS Peregrine; Deck 5 - Observation Lounge "The Aerie" - 12:55
"Don't you dare," the Andorian beauty leans forward and with a wide-eyed expression smiles a little to soften the intensity of her words. "I am not sharing this information with you so that you can fix anything, Tochi. This department is mine, for better or worse, I am married to it and I'll not be known as the one member of the senior officers who went whining to the XO on her second day of assignment.
"I shall straighten the department out, and those whom I've been assigned shall be right as the soft upwards rain on the Hiletklef Fields."
Grinning around mock surprise, Tochi raises his hands in surrender. "Alright," he chuckles, "we'll keep our nose out of it, then."
Pausing with the arrival of the Bajoran Ops crewman, she sets her royal blue gaze upon him. "Hello, you two," Sudar smiles and extends his greetings. "What can I get for you?"
"Two katheka at a neat seventy-one point one degrees celsius, please," she takes the lead. "And I'll have a small oudin with a side of fea arel."
Turning a smiling face to her lunch companion, she sinks back against the chair and holds out a hand, palm upward, to indicate it's his turn to order.
"We'll have the same, Tam," Tochi nods after a moment's contemplation, "with honar as opposed to fea arel, please."
"Very well, Lieutenants," Crewman Suder grins, flicking Tochi a shrewd wink as he backs away from the table, "I'll have that right out for you."
"Thank you, Crewman," Zai replies, his eyebrows lifting evocatively as he emphasizes Tam's rank.
The Betazoid flashes a grin,your spots are purple, Lieutenant, and then turns to go tend to the pair's orders.
Shaking his head, Tochi's attentions turn back to the woman across the table. "We get the feeling that, somewhere, someone has just won a bet," he snickers. Then, as he realizes that he's just spoken that thought aloud, offers a faintly mortified smile as the warmth in his cheeks bolsters the fact that his spots likely had, in fact, gone a bit purple. "Aaaaanyway," He chuckles, again, absently running the fingers of one hand through his hair before that hand comes to rest at the back of his neck (at precisely the spot his abashed glare might be burning a hole in Suder's).
His eyes find his way back to hers after a second, though, and fighting to restrain his blush, the Trill offers a smile. "As we were saying," he says as his hand falls away from his neck and clasps with the other on the tabletop before him, "We have no doubt that you'll manage to have your department answering to higher standards in no time. If there is anything I can do to assist, though, don't hesitate to ask, hmm?
That is, of course, unless doing so would quantify as ‘whining to the XO'," he adds with a wink.
"What bet?" Asovil's brow furrows in consternation. "What do you mean?"
Posted on 2016-11-03 at 22:07:15.
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Topic: Star Trek: the Edge of Duty Q&A
Subject: Aren't there a couple of shows like that...?
Australian Night of the Body-Snatchers?
Posted on 2016-11-02 at 17:17:15.
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Topic: Star Trek: the Edge of Duty
Subject: Oh, no he dinn't!
Stardate 2365.02.09 (Tuesday - 42137.6)
USS Peregrine; Deck 5 - Observation Lounge "The Aerie" - 12:53
A sigh whispers past Tochi's lips but fails to erase the smile there. "A bit more hectic than we had expected it to be," Tochi admits, folding his hands together on the table between them as his eyes fixed to hers. "After the reception, last night, we had some concerns, shall we say, about Ambassador Threel," he begins by way of explanation, "and, so, I woke early in order to relay those concerns to the Coronado. We had planned on a couple of more hours of sleep, following that, but, as it happens, we are to serve as Chief Crane's advocate at the Captain's Mast, this afternoon. As such, we've spent much of the morning conferring with Mister Crane, and, otherwise, preparing for the Mast."
"Funny how such a simple thing can consume so much time," the Trill's grin quirks toward irony for a moment and, as his fingers unlace and he leans back in his seat, he shrugs faintly. "Our morning has been tedious and mind-numbing," he chuckles, "and we still have a shift in the Big Chair to look forward to." He pauses for an instant, his gaze dancing over her face, then smiles warmly and says; "I imagine that this time with you, Lt Sh'iraolnas, will be the bright spot in an otherwise dreary day."
"How about you," he asks, then, leaning back in to rest his elbows on the table and clasp his hands together beneath his chin, "nothing as frenetic as yesterday, I hope?"
"I am sorry for your trouble, Tochi, but do not be so quick to judge," Asovil remarks while raising her thin white brows and tilting her head to the left ever so slightly. "I contributed to your lack of sleep, I'm afraid. After all, Chief Crane's situation—though of her own making—was brought to Captain Drake's attention by none other than myself.
"As for my morning, well, I have yet to slide onto a starship on my belly, so I do have that going for me. I am, however, somewhat dismayed." Leaning forward, she gently brushes some dust from the tabletop. "How in the world did Lieutenant Tesenblen ever accomplish anything with a department filled with disorder and incompetence?"
Forestalling any potential protest from the XO, the Andorian woman looks intently into his eyes and holds up the same hand that had just relieved the table of the burden of dust. "PO Rogers—the chemist—is currently a resident of Sickbay for an unspecified duration having somehow, and for some unknown reason, combined three deadly-enough chemicals of their own accord to create a rather murderous cloud. For what purpose, I have no concept, yet. But now, not only is he quite severely injured, but I'm down another crew member leaving my department short two individuals."
Shaking her head in a slow, deliberate fashion, the young officer leans back until the rest catches her. Chewing on the inside of her bottom lip, she looks off to Tochi's right, just past his shoulder and glumly says, "Not exactly the best impression for a new CSO. Were I not accustomed to constantly fighting an uphill battle, I might be feeling lower than a snake's jelly."
"I'm not complaining," she returns her attention to her lunch date and adopts a resigned expression accented by a slight smile. "I'm sure that without all of these events taking place, I'd be bored out of my mind and relegated to an afterthought as the head of a non-essential department aboard an escort vessel.
Concern mingles with the puzzlement that surely must have etched itself into his visage as the CSO expanded on her lamentations as to the state in which she had found her department. Tesenblen's illegal procurement of restricted specimens, Crane's misguided but still blatant circumvention of protocol, and, now, Petty Officer Rogers (whom Tochi, quite honestly, had always found to be more than a little offputting) not only severely injured himself but, from the sounds of it, could have potentially put the mission and the ship itself a very serious risk. All of this had transpired right underneath his nose, on his watch, and he had been oblivious to it.
She has every reason to complain, Tochi decides, his steepled fingers pressed to his lips as he studies the lovely Andorian scientist and contemplates all of what she's just said, and not just to us, to Starfleet Command, itself, if she sees fit. Taken individually or as a whole, as she tells it, it points to disorder and incompetence within the department and, worse, shipwide all the way up to Command.
Did we become that apathetic on that snooze of a patrol tour?
"What shall we have for lunch? Hmm?"
"Lunch?" The Trill blinks at the question, realizing that he's become distracted by his ponderings. His hand falls away from where it had been thoughtfully rubbing at his whisker-stubbled chin and, as his gaze focuses on Asovil again, the faint scowl that had worked its way onto his lips morphed into a somewhat contrite smile. His mind hadn't truly been concerned with what they would eat even when he'd sent her the invitation and, now, food certainly wasn't at the forefront of his thoughts. "Right," he blinks again, chuckling softly as his smile warms a bit more, "lunch. We had almost forgotten. I, for one, could use a good cup of katheka, to start."
Tochi's gaze drifts away from the Andorian woman long enough to catch the attention of Crewman Suder and politely wave him over. Suder nods in reply and, as he starts to make his way over, the Trill's attentions return fully to Asovil. "We are truly sorry," he offers sincerely, "for both the turmoil in which you found your department and for our failure in having not seen and addressed it beforehand. Moreso, we're sorry that you feel as if you, or your department, are at all non-essential.
"You have my word, Asovil," he smiles as the Betazoid Ops crewman draws up at a respectful distance from the table, "I'll do all I can to correct every one of those issues for you."
"Don't you dare," the Andorian beauty leans forward and with a wide-eyed expression smiles a little to soften the intensity of her words. "I am not sharing this information with you so that you can fix anything, Tochi. This department is mine, for better or worse, I am married to it and I'll not be known as the one member of the senior officers who went whining to the XO on her second day of assignment.
"I shall straighten the department out, and those whom I've been assigned shall be right as the soft upwards rain on the Hiletklef Fields."
Pausing with the arrival of the Bajoran Ops crewman, she sets her royal blue gaze upon him. "Hello, you two," Sudar smiles and extends his greetings. "What can I get for you?"
"Two katheka at a neat seventy-one point one degrees celsius, please," she takes the lead. "And I'll have a small oudin with a side of fea arel."
Turning a smiling face to her lunch companion, she sinks back against the chair and holds out a hand, palm upward, to indicate it's his turn to order.
Posted on 2016-11-02 at 17:16:15.
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Topic: Star Trek: the Edge of Duty
Subject: More lunch
Stardate 2365.02.09 (Tuesday - 42137.6)
USS Peregrine; Deck 5 - Observation Lounge "The Aerie" - 12:50
A sigh whispers past Tochi's lips but fails to erase the smile there. "A bit more hectic than we had expected it to be," Tochi admits, folding his hands together on the table between them as his eyes fixed to hers. "After the reception, last night, we had some concerns, shall we say, about Ambassador Threel," he begins by way of explanation, "and, so, I woke early in order to relay those concerns to the Coronado. We had planned on a couple of more hours of sleep, following that, but, as it happens, we are to serve as Chief Crane's advocate at the Captain's Mast, this afternoon. As such, we've spent much of the morning conferring with Mister Crane, and, otherwise, preparing for the Mast."
"Funny how such a simple thing can consume so much time," the Trill's grin quirks toward irony for a moment and, as his fingers unlace and he leans back in his seat, he shrugs faintly. "Our morning has been tedious and mind-numbing," he chuckles, "and we still have a shift in the Big Chair to look forward to." He pauses for an instant, his gaze dancing over her face, then smiles warmly and says; "I imagine that this time with you, Lt Sh'iraolnas, will be the bright spot in an otherwise dreary day."
"How about you," he asks, then, leaning back in to rest his elbows on the table and clasp his hands together beneath his chin, "nothing as frenetic as yesterday, I hope?"
"I am sorry for your trouble, Tochi, but do not be so quick to judge," Asovil remarks while raising her thin white brows and tilting her head to the left ever so slightly. "I contributed to your lack of sleep, I'm afraid. After all, Chief Crane's situation—though of her own making—was brought to Captain Drake's attention by none other than myself.
"As for my morning, well, I have yet to slide onto a starship on my belly, so I do have that going for me. I am, however, somewhat dismayed." Leaning forward, she gently brushes some dust from the tabletop. "How in the world did Lieutenant Tesenblen ever accomplish anything with a department filled with disorder and incompetence?"
Forestalling any potential protest from the XO, the Andorian woman looks intently into his eyes and holds up the same hand that had just relieved the table of the burden of dust. "PO Rogers—the chemist—is currently a resident of Sickbay for an unspecified duration having somehow, and for some unknown reason, combined three deadly-enough chemicals of their own accord to create a rather murderous cloud. For what purpose, I have no concept, yet. But now, not only is he quite severely injured, but I'm down another crew member leaving my department short two individuals."
Shaking her head in a slow, deliberate fashion, the young officer leans back until the rest catches her. Chewing on the inside of her bottom lip, she looks off to Tochi's right, just past his shoulder and glumly says, "Not exactly the best impression for a new CSO. Were I not accustomed to constantly fighting an uphill battle, I might be feeling lower than a snake's jelly."
"I'm not complaining," she returns her attention to her lunch date and adopts a resigned expression accented by a slight smile. "I'm sure that without all of these events taking place, I'd be bored out of my mind and relegated to an afterthought as the head of a non-essential department aboard an escort vessel.
"What shall we have for lunch? Hmm?"
Posted on 2016-11-01 at 18:39:39.
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Topic: Supernatural Q&A thread
Subject: Bravo!
Nicely done.
Posted on 2016-11-01 at 10:43:54.
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Topic: Star Trek: the Edge of Duty Q&A
Subject: That's... unique.
Who'da thunked it?
By the way, Kangaroo Tochi is up to bat.
Posted on 2016-11-01 at 10:42:04.
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Topic: Star Trek: the Edge of Duty
Subject: Lunch?
Stardate 2365.02.09 (Tuesday - 42137.6)
USS Peregrine; Deck 5 - Observation Lounge "The Aerie" - 12:49
Three minutes isn't a long time in most cases. In theory, time is but a dimension through which all things are manipulated and Asovil finds herself in conflict as to whether she would extend the plane or shorten it. On one hand, the pending arrival of the ship's charming XO couldn't happen fast enough. Then again, the other hand begged for more time to ponder the events on board the Peregrine since her arrival.
Chief Crane's behavior and pending Captain's Mast, the Captain's irritated nature at having his command staff dismantled, and now PO Rogers serious accident. Having barely received the report on Roger's condition, the Andorian department head was now more concerned with what he was up to that had resulted in such catastrophe. Those chemicals have no practical use together, no reason to mix them for any of the assignments she can recall, and furthermore, Rogers' record showed him proficient enough with his duties that this shouldn't have happened. Knowing that this incident means she will be involved in further investigations, the lieutenant junior grade takes a deep breath and slowly releases it all the while eyeing the streaking lines of the space beyond without even so much as her normal curiosity.
Starting at the light tough on her shoulder, Asovil turns abruptly in her seat and looks up at Tochi's smiling face as he continues past her to take a seat.
"Good afternoon, Asovil," he smiles, his fingers regretfully abandoning the contact as he skirts the table and takes the seat opposite her, "My apologies, again, for being late. We've not kept you waiting long, I hope."
"That would depend on which dimension we're theorizing within," the scientist responds coyly as she returns his smile. "In this one, no. Not long at all.
"How has your morning been?"
Posted on 2016-11-01 at 10:40:07.
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Topic: Flesh & Blood - A CyberPunk Game
Subject: Moving forward...
Don't forget to check your character sheets for skills, weapons, gear, cyberware, etc. to help you in your planning. I didn't press this before because, well, I was kinda a jerk. But, you could have saved some dough on that taser purchase had you just read over your sheets.
Looking for a concise plan to overcome the traffic giving Blossom and possibly Fixer time to get you all down into the manhole. Remember these key points:
1. There's going to be moderate traffic on that road at this time of night.
2. There are still street urchins, tenement occupants, etc. that could possibly see you.
3. You don't know what kind of security you're going to need to overcome to get through the manhole into the sewers.
4. You don't know what you'll encounter in the sewers.
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Tann, evidence left at the scene is beginning to be processed. Think of the CSI shows and the evidence they are able to uncover given time; cops in the CyberPunk world have way better technology and scanning devices that can recreate scenes, analyze data like trajectory, number of rounds fired, etc. so while your Persuasion/Fast Talk might have worked initially, the longer you're in custody, the more likely the truth is to be revealed.
Posted on 2016-10-31 at 10:12:23.
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Topic: Flesh & Blood - A Night City Adventure
Subject: Cops are Catching On | Need to Know About Sewer Access
Night City Regional General Hospital, Emergency Room | Night City Integrate | Midcity | UrbanZone - Day 2 (Saturday), 2:20 AM PST
Weather Conditions: High City (Thunderstorms, 15mph winds from the NE.) | Midcity (Rain, 10mph winds from the NE.) | Undercity (Fog and Rain, no winds.)
Air Quality Index: High City = 25 | Midcity = 42 | Undercity = 75 (masks required)
"Hey," Riggs says without looking up from his device. "Mr. Story. What'd this fellow look like who was airlifted by the AV?"
"Not much I can tell you. He seemed tall, maybe five foot ten to six feet, was wearing a nice suit, maybe a Si-Fuyen or something close. Was a good dancer, though he was kinda clueless that he was pissing off those boosters. He had dark brown hair, or maybe it was just dark, the hair looked recently dyed. Really all I got before the fireworks started."
Officer Riggs enters the information into his handheld and then studies the screen a moment longer. "That was a Trauma Team AV, wasn't it Murtaugh?"
"Sure was," the older cop answers in a distracted tone.
"Anything more you can give me on the victim, Mr. Story?" Riggs looks up from his agent and raises his bushy eyebrows at the wounded solo.
Pausing as if to think on everything, Casino replies, "No. Not really. What is it your looking for from me, Riggs? Who was that guy? Someone important, maybe wanted?"
Before Riggs or his partner could respond an auto orderly appears. Casino hates the things—always had—ever since he'd watched that old classic film about the killer robot titled, Terminator, or something. They'd made a number of follow-up films and had remastered the original into a VR experience as well. But, Casino, like essentially the rest of the world, was all too familiar with the concept of Cyberpsychosis and those who replaced too much meat with metal turning into their own versions of the Terminator.
"What's the injury?" a three foot tall vacuum-cleaner with a holographic round head displaying a smiley face on a round, yellow ball rolls up in front of the three men.
"Gunshot wound to the arm," Riggs explains.
"Would you like something for the pain?" the face turns into a wide-eyed expression of question complete with raised eyebrows.
Not wanting to let the two cops question him further and possibly cause him to slip up, he considers the risks of getting a pain shot. On the one hand, getting some morphine would be an excuse to act all drowsy and non-responsive enough for them to leave him alone. However, getting the shot, depending on the amount of pain killer used, was also dangerous as he could very well actually become drowsy or get hit by a painkiller/truth drug mix and screw up his storyline. The big solo had to admit that without his pain editor, the arm f-ing hurt and he was no longer as young or as tough as he once was, but he could be tough once as he ever was.
Sighing, having made a difficult choice, Casino looks at the robotic orderly through pain-filled eyes. "No thanks. I can‘t afford it. Unless this one is on the city police?"
Riggs gives the leather-clad solo a sidelong glance, "Something of a comedian? Murtaugh, we've a comedian here."
"I heard."
"Tell ya what," Officer Riggs shifts so that he's squared to the injured gunman. "Give me the name of the geek that off'd those boosters and we can talk about some pain meds. You scratch my back, I scratch yours."
"Remember the training, Riggs," Murtaugh mumbles, his eyes still on the television screen. "Human resources don't want us touching no one inappropriately. Lawsuits and all that."
"I've not touched a soul yet, partner, Riggs responds lightly. Then, to Casino, "What'dya say, Amigo? Got a name for me? You see," he holds up his agent so that Casino can catch a brief view of the contents on the screen. Data streaming across the device looks to be some sort of incident report, but Riggs drops the agent back to his lap before the solo can read too much. "The uni's on the scene are documenting a rather large number of casing on the scene. Preliminary reports indicate that there's between—" he glances back to his agent before smiling and returning his attention to the bleeding solo. "—five and seven shooters."
"Five to seven?" Murtaugh wonders without breaking away from his entertainment. "Wasn't there three meatbags in the car?"
"Yup." Riggs nods. "Three. That leaves—" he counts on his fingers for emphasis. "Between two and five potential additional players. This just isn't adding up. I think that maybe Mr. Story is telling us a story, Murtaugh. What'dya think?"
"Why would he do that, Riggs?" the older cop asks blandly. "He don't got no reason to lie to us."
"No, of course not. ‘Cause that'd be accessory to murder, and that'd mean some serious penitentiary time. So, there'd be no reason to lie, would there, Mr. Story?"
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Maggie's Grill | Night City Integrate | High City | UrbanZone - Day 2 (Saturday), 2:28 AM PST
Weather Conditions: High City (Thunderstorms, 15mph winds from the NE.) | Midcity (Rain, 10mph winds from the NE.) | Undercity (Fog and Rain, no winds.)
Air Quality Index: High City = 25 | Midcity = 42 | Undercity = 75 (masks required)
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Within Maggie's Grill, Ghlahn, Blossom, Echo, and Bloodbank have been nursing their drinks for approximately twenty-minutes by the time Vegas and Fixer arrive.
"Where's your partner?" Blossom pokes the ice in her glass with her index finger and watches it bob up and down in the brown liquid Julieta had refilled moments earlier.
"We ran into a bit of a problem outside the Rat Pack," the Chairman look-alike fills the group in. "Casino got himself shot up pretty bad. He stayed behind to let the cops patch him up, while using his 'Casino Charm' to throw them off our scent while we proceed with the task we signed up for.
"Nice to see you too Doll."
"Chill," the wardriver replies. "You're not at all concerned about the integrity of our run, are you?"
"Well Doll," continued the dapper solo, "no need to worry your pretty little head about my concerns.
"We did manage to meet Starlight and get the hardware that Casino ordered. Fixer has all Casino's heavy duty firepower. I have the Taser. Starlight managed to get herself shot all to pieces, but she was airlifted out by her posse before the cops arrived to take Casino in for questioning. She will be wanting a report soon."
"Is he going to join us later, then? And Starlight—have you heard anything about her condition since you left her?" Echo asks, wondering how bad "shot up pretty bad" and "shot all to pieces" really was.
Blossom rolls the sucker to the other side of her mouth with her tongue and stares at the group's designated leader for a moment before saying, "Seeing how the gig's health affects all of us, I think worrying about one of the team being picked up by cops and our benefactor being ‘shot all to pieces' is more than just your concerns, Choomba."
"Time to focus on the task at hand," Vegas responds to Blossom. "Starlight is expecting an update and you can rest assured that she is pulling strings to get the job done and get a big payday from Santa for finding the boy."
"All right," Bloodbank speaks up and leans forward over his drink after glancing about to make sure no one was within non-enhanced hearing range, circumventing any further possible contention. "Here's the skinny,"
He proceeds to explain the setting of the Bartholomew School, the tenements nearby, the security as they could see it, and the only plan they'd come up with so far. When he finishes, he leans back and raises his eyebrows. "Any ideas?"
"Trail may get too cold by Monday," states the dapper solo, "and no telling where the kid is stashed. Santa is probably getting more fidgety by the hour. No telling who else has been employed to find the kid. I for one have been through too much tonight to let some other Choombas cut in on our action!" He looks each of the men in the eye, before continuing his one-sided conversation. "I want to hear what the Ladies have to say."
Vegas turns his attention to Blossom and Echo, foregoing any foreplay of flirtation. "Okay," he asks without his usual charm, "what course of action makes sense to you dolls?"
"The only thoughts I had was posing as students, which may not work because it's the weekend." Echo responds. "I asked Blossom to check for any activities the school might be having today, like a game or some junk, which might make it easier to get in. Another thought I just had is what about the sewer system or some other underground maint tunnels?"
She leans back and takes a sip of her cola.
"That's all I've got, choomba. You have any bright ideas?"
"Private schools," Blossom audibly pops the sucker from her mouth and points it towards the pretty nomad. "They focus more on academics than sports. There's a swim meet being held in the Central Valley Integrate, but that's it. Nothin' for nothin' on campus.
"I also pulled up a map from the Dark on the sewers in this part of the Integrate," the netrunner twirls her candy about in the air like a wand, "magical-like. There's a central access tunnel that runs under the southeast corner. Looks like there could be a manhole if the data is still right. Don't know what kind of security."
The tiny platinum blonde Asian places her agent on the table and activates the holoprojector at the top, bringing up a 3-dimensional map that hovers approximately ten centimeters over the devices in a ball of transparent tunnels and the bottoms of wireframed buildings twenty centimeters in diameter.
"That's about three blocks back the way we just came," she points to a position on the ball that shows what appears to be street access to the tunnels. "Middle of the street, pretty out in the open, but it'd be our closest way down. See here?" she traces a line down the tunnels and then waves the ball into motion moving it along the correct path until reaching the portion of the map she wants. A quick move results in the map stopping and she once again uses her lollipop to point out the next street level access point. "That's the one that opens up in the compound."
"What kind of security do you think is down there?" Bloodbank queries. "And traffic is still heavy enough from what I saw that it begs the question, how do we get down in the first place?"
The Dapper Solo scratches his head before replying, "Far as I can tell, we need to make like Alice and go down the Rabbit Hole! I do not see any other way and I can still hear Starlight barking orders while her boys patched her up and airlifted her out of harm's way. We need a diversion. You dolls got any magic tricks to complement the firepower that Fixer is carrying?"
"The sewers sound like the only way in unless we wait til monday." Ghlahn adds his consensus in a quiet, non-imposing tone. "Can't say I really like either option. If there is an entrance inside the compound that would get my vote. Easier to bypass security. If we get lucky, the manhole will not be in an area the guards watch. Usually security is more invested in looking outwards than inwards. But, if they are watching, there will likely be bloodshed again."
"No," the medtech shakes his head and looks down at the table. "No more bloodshed if we can avoid it." Raising his gaze, he continues. "The more gunfire, the more media attention. The more bloodshed, the more media attention. We've already drawn a lot of heat. We've got to find a way to do this without killing more people."
"I've three mindcores left," Blossom reports around her sucker. "I've a program that can cloak one meatbag decently enough, but it ain't magic and without knowing the actual security measures this place has in operation, it's a risk, is all I'm sayin'."
"I vote the sewers," the pretty nomad pipes up and points to the tunnel Blossom had brought up on her virtual display. "Look, it's the cleanest approach if we're trying to be discreet."
"Unless we can figure out a way to go in from the top," Bloodbank suggests. "There are those tenements near the school. If we could get an angle, put a line down to one of the school rooftops, and zipline in, anyone got the equipment for that?"
"I've a grapple line," Fixer states in a monotone that speaks as though he doesn't really care. "But it's only twenty-meters in length."
"How far was the nearest building from the tenements?" Bloodbank asks.
"About triple that distance," Echo replies.
"Well," the medtech looks sullen. "That rules that out."
"So, we're back to the sewers then?" the Asian netrunner asks. "OK, then let's discuss how we're gonna get down there.
"The sewer entrance, here," she brings the map back to the street view location and points to the manhole center in the road, "is where we'll need to get in. That's the closest access and unless we want to spend more time down there—which, I don't. These are new boots—then this is our best option. But this is a busy street, even at this time of night, and we don't know what kind of locking mechanism the manhole cover has in place, if any. So, we've got a couple of problems way I see it.
"First," Blossom deactivates the virtual holographic display and pockets her agent. "We've gotta keep from getting ran over while trying to get down through the manhole, and second; we gotta get down in through the manhole.
"Now, I got a techscanner, so I can check and see what bandwidth is being used at the manhole. That should tell me if it's remotely controlled, or has a feed of some kind, but I'll need at least thirty-seconds to a minute for the device to work."
"That's assuming that the manhole is secured at all," Echo adds.
"Oh," Blossom grins and takes the lollipop from her mouth. "They'll be secured, sugarpie. Just ask either of these big boys here—" the grape sucker is used as a pointer to indicate Vegas and Ghlahn. "—and I'm sure they'll tell ya that any security company worth their salt is gonna make sure that they've got all of the ways in and out covered."
"Great," Bloodbank leans forward and places his elbows on the table, clasping his hands before him. "So, what's the plan to get down into the sewers then?"
Posted on 2016-10-31 at 10:05:34.
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Topic: Flesh & Blood - A CyberPunk Game
Subject: Nope. Nothing you can't discover in reading back posts.
Bloodbank has been played as reluctant to take life, but capable. Other than that, just look through his gear, there are links on the first post of this Q&A thread, but if you have any questions, just ask.
Posted on 2016-10-31 at 09:09:35.
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Topic: Hunter the Vigil, A supernatural Game
Subject: The Owl, a Local Pub in Markham a Suburb in Toronto, Canada. Thursday, August 28th, 2016.
Ignoring the jeering and rude comments being flung after the old fellow and his two escorts, Colum continues on as though his sole purpose is to depart the craziness ensuing on the roof. Truth be told, part of him is doing just that. He's not one for crowds and even more so the type that could erupt into further chaos at a moment's notice. Having sent the text message to Pastor Dominic, the biker is about to slide his phone back into his pocket when he's surprised by an immediate reply. Studying the screen, he frowns and continues descending the steps.
A man in white with horns stealing souls? Never heard of that... But I'll check the books. I do know that demons have horns and steal souls but.. they've always been tiny, usually invisible and ugly. Like the classic imp... Lord help me I need coffee, I've been staying up late researching on everything ever since.. Yknow.. I'll get back to you on that.
Using the thumb of his right hand, Wrathman simply responds with, Thx and proceeds to return his phone to his jacket pocket. Ahead of him, Norman is walked down the stairs and forcefully thrown to the floor by the pair of angry looking men. Colum pauses at the foot of the stairs and leans against the wall watching dispassionately as one of the locals bullying the old man stops and spits at him before turning back to head upstairs. Seeing no one stop to help the old man—though, again, a few looks of pity are thrown his way—the large biker sniffs in disgust as the two men move to begin their ascent to the roof once more.
"And here I thought that you Canadians were supposed to be nice," he rumbles in his deep voice while eyeballing the two men (OOC: Presence check please). "Where I come from, you just don't treat the elderly like that."
Colum's intent is to subdue the anger these men are feeling through intimidation, but then to hopefully turn their emotions into shame by calling them on their rough treatment. Moving past them, he's not shy about making them move to avoid him and his dusty riding leathers.
Stepping up to the frail form on the floor, Colum McRath drops to a crough and holds out a calloused hand, "Here."
"Thank you young fellow. I. I really appreciate that.". Norman sighs for a moment, accepting the offered assistance and pull to his feet before he says, "Let me get you a drink for your kindness."
"Sure," Colum casts another sidelong look up the stairs just to make sure trouble isn't following them and then pats the older fellow on the back. "Never turned down a Corona."
Walking with Norman to the bar, the biker casually scans the room and registers the faces of all that he can for signs of their current dispositions. He doesn't care what people think of him; being a biker his whole life he's heard it all, but if he can make out the difference in a person's demeanor from when they were just judging him versus his association with Norman, that might tell the hunter a great deal.
Bellying up to the bar, the long-haired scruffy man sets his partially consumed Corona Extra on the bar, catches the bartender's attention, and indicates another for himself and one for Norman.
"So, Norman, is it?" he begins casually. "What was that all about?"
Posted on 2016-10-31 at 09:06:42.
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Topic: Supernatural Q&A thread
Subject: Well, now...
*Goes in search of something to light fires under people...*
Posted on 2016-10-31 at 08:46:00.
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Topic: Star Trek: the Edge of Duty Q&A
Subject: What can I say? Trouble follows beauty... or is that smoke? Smoke follows beauty.
Check your PM, Boo.
Posted on 2016-10-28 at 18:15:24.
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Topic: Star Trek: the Edge of Duty Q&A
Subject: I've posted yet again.
I've posted. There's opportunity for Medical and Engineering to make some posts here as well. Happy to collaborate with anyone, or have people pick up the NPCs.
Posted on 2016-10-28 at 15:42:57.
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Topic: Star Trek: the Edge of Duty
Subject: More Reception Activity | Trouble in Chem Lab | Lunch with Tochi
Stardate 2365.02.08 (Monday - 42136.5)
USS Peregrine Deck 2 - Captain's Mess - 19:22
Haemis finishes off his drink and smiles warmly. "Tis a fast ship. But her top speeds are classified if memory serves. Without know'n what I'm allowed to divulge, I hope you understand that I canna give ye that information. But I can tell ya she's fast." he shifts his weight, fighting that nervous feeling at being in a crowd, even though it may be a small crowd. "Ifinya get the chance, and the Capt'n approves it, we can look into getting you a tour. They might already have one lined up for ye." he snags another drink as Ops passes by with a tray of them, "These are quite good. Have ye had one yet?" he asked looking at the glass.
"Ah, that's the Rytainian Blue Frond Tea," Threel genuinely puffs out his chest with pride. "The tea leaves provide a natural sweetener that is delightful on the palette. I'm pleased that you find it enjoyable."
"We've nothing so sweet on Kuldar that grows from a natural source." D'Lar grins a wolfish baring of teeth and shakes his head causing his greasy hair to flop about his neck like limp eels. "Though some on Kuldar have managed to acquire a taste for it from shipments we've procured."
"Procured, indeed," Threel mumbles just loud enough that Asovil finds herself slightly startled by the indication she can only presume means the Rytainian ambassador is insinuating theft by the Kuldaran people. D'Lar seems not to notice, though the Andorian is positive that he heard.
McTavish continues staring at the liquid for a long moment as if remembering something. The last time he actually drank much of anything was at a friend's wedding prior to the posting on the Coronado. it was a small affair, just a few tents in a park in the middle of Washington—some park he couldn't remember the name of. He did recall that it had a wonderful view.
"Hurricane Ridge!" he says suddenly and randomly as he remembers the name of the park. "That was the place..." he continues under his breath and snapping his fingers. "Lieutenant Pressman and his bride to be. That's where I remember something like this from..." he points to the drink completely oblivious of the exchange between the delegates. "Ach, memories. Sometimes harder to pull data from than a fried isolinear chip!" he shakes his head a moment again, realizing he's rambling.
"Memories, indeed," D'Lar pounces, using the CEO's distracted comments to poke his ambush his counterpart in a very subtle way.
"I believe that a tour of the Peregrine would be an excellent way to have what remaining questions you may have answered," Asovil chimes in, surprising even herself as she impulsively reacts to the desire she feels to ward off potential hostilities. "If one has not already been arranged, perhaps Lieutenant Salad would be kind enough to do so." Unaware that she had mistaken the Ops department head's name for the green-leafed meal, she continues. "We have an impressive ship, and despite security considerations, I'd imagine a large portion of it could be showcased for your entertainment."
"Yes," Threel pulls the sour look he's giving D'Lar away as though it were being drawn in by a persistent tractor beam and forces a friendly smile back upon his orange lips. "I would find that amusing."
"I think I'll have to decline any such invitations," the Kuldaran dignitary waves his scaly hand as though to shoo the thought from his mind. "I've much to review in order to be fully prepared for the summit."
Glancing sidelong at Tochi, the blue-skinned beauty wonders at his thoughts. He appears calm and collected, engaged a minimum of what decorum calls for, witty, and in control, but she considers whether he is contemplative, astute, and observant.
"As we imagine both of you might, Ambassador D'Lar," Tochi smiles graciously, offering a nod to the Kuldaran, "Should you find an opening in your schedule and decide otherwise, don't hesitate to let us know.
"Of course," he continues, offering the same smile as his gaze ticks to Threel, "I'm sure that you'll understand there will be areas of the ship that are, by necessity, restricted, but we're sure that a tour can be arranged that will familiarize you with the Saber-class. Lieutenant McTavish and I will confer and come up with something for you."
"You know something of engineering, Lieutenant Zai?" Threel asks curiously, his wispy brows crawling higher on his forehead.
"A bit." Zai grins modestly, "Though, we're certainly not of Mac's caliber. Our last post before being assigned to the Peregrine was actually on the Saber Class Development Project," Asovil regards him with deeper interest. Such an assignment wasn't something she had imagined him enduring for long—too sedentary. "In fact, our last assignment on that tour was to deliver this very ship to Captain Drake. We have some insight."
He chuckles softly and offers a faint shrug as his gaze lets go of Threel and dips to regard the contents of his mug for a second. "I seem to be in need of another drink," his green-gold eyes lift, again, and move from face to face, lingering on Asovil's for perhaps a nanosecond longer than the others. "If you'll excuse us for a moment, gentlemen, we're inclined to try some of that Blue Frond Tea."
The Andorian turns her head to watch him sashay away, but realizes that such an action might cause questions to be raised in a situation where premature assumptions might be damaging to all involved and returns her deep blue gaze to the delegates.
"Ah," D'Lar's declaration is guttural and deep. "I'm inclined to move this conversation to the table. This has been a long day and I long for the succulent blood of the KoKomta to linger for a time on my tongue."
"That sounds delightful," Threel groans, but extends his hand towards the table as though being the gracious host. "Shall we, then?"
Not needing any further prompting, Asovil turns and gracefully glides about the table to her chair. Once more seated, she waits and watches the actions of more experienced souls in this setting to take her ease and sup.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Stardate 2365.02.09 (Tuesday - 42137.6)
USS Peregrine; Deck 1 - Chief Science Officer's Office - 09:35
... further than the past test marks. The containment field appears to not be sustainable after a capacity threshold of ~12% dark matter has been achieved. Particle Alignment Fields seem to fluctuate with the displacement of normal matter perhaps due to the increase of density. I'm seeking your assistance with the physics involved in the PA Field's algorithms. I've included my previous calculations along with recent modifications—
=/= Lieutenant Sh'iraolnas,=/= the computer's pleasant female voice interrupts her typed missive giving reason for the Andorian woman to pause. =/= You have a new message from Lieutenant Zai. =/=
Dark blue lips feel parched and her heart rate elevates with the words. She had set the alert moments after she had sent her final draft to Tochi's original message, but even knowing that the alert would eventually sound isn't enough to prepare her for the flood of excitement now that it has.
"Thank you," she replies through what seems to her to be a desert residing on her tongue. Momentarily saving the draft of the letter she is writing to Dr. Ster, a Vulcan mathematician and theoretical physicist of some repute that she has enlisted in the past to assist her with this experiment, the blue-skinned woman accesses her newly arrived messages. Filtering isn't necessary as Tochi's is the first in the list along with thirty-three additional unread messages from across the known Systems. Long, smooth fingers pause just before touching the screen and for a moment Asovil is worried about what she's about to read.
"You are an Andorian Imperial Guard and accomplished scientist," she chides in a stern tone. "No mere words can possibly be this intimidating."
Still, she finds those last two centimeters of air between her fingertips and the amoled screen's surface thicker than air's density should be requiring an act of sheer will to finish the action. Childish, she observes harshly as the screen responds and Tochi's communication replaces the inbox.
To: Lt(jg) Sh'iraolnas, A.
From: Lt Zai, T.
Subject: re re: Schedule?
I am pleased to hear that it's a bit less hectic for you, today. Chaos makes it difficult to settle in.
As I am technically not on duty until 1500, my schedule is, for the most part, open until the Captain's Mast at 1400. As to location, I'm interested more in the company than the cuisine; I'll leave the choice of place and time at your discretion.
Looking forward to seeing you,
Tochi
Concern flutters from her chest like a butterfly newly emerged from its chrysalis and lites upon her lips in the form of a gentle smile. So great the impression that she finds herself touching her lips with two fingers from her left hand and in surprised embarrassment, pushes her hand between her thighs in order to keep it from springing to life of its own accord once more.
"He's leaving it up to me," she wonders out loud. "But I don't even know the ship yet!" Brow furrowing is accompanied by antenna laying low across her silky white hair as her brilliant mind begins to sort through potential options. There's the mess hall, the Airie, a holodeck, perhaps? Using her free right hand, the young officer access the holodeck schedule on her personal computer. Scheduled, she acknowledges grimly. Then, brushing her tamed hair back over her right ear unnecessarily, she leans back in her chair and begins to chew on her bottom lip.
The Airie did have good food, but it wasn't exactly private, shocked at her own line of thought, Asovil blinks. Privacy isn't necessary at this point in time. I have barely met the man and we both have reputations to uphold. The Airie will do fine.
Sufficiently chastised by her inner Imperial Guard Instructor, she sets about writing her reply.
To: Lt Zai, T.
From: Lt(jg) Sh'iraolnas, A.
Subject: re: re: re: Schedule?
Then, 12:30 hours at the Airie. I shall see you there, and I shall have bells on.
Asovil
There, she quickly pushes the send button before she could second guess herself. Providing her left hand company, the lieutenant slips her right hand between her thighs and leans forward, staring at the indicator that the message has been sent with too wide sapphire eyes. Almost three seconds pass before the notice that her draft remains incomplete catches her attention. Giving her head a slight shake to remove the cobwebs that had been developing, the missive is returned to prominent position on her screen and the work continued.
Providing additional information for Dr. Ster takes up the majority of the next couple of hours. Finishing the communication and striking send provides the scientist with a sense of accomplishment that is short-lived as she returns to her inbox and begins to sort through her messages.
Finding more than ten from her immediate staff regarding requests for assistance in problem solving, requisitions, and introductions, the young officer quickly sorts through priorities and then begins to answer them with all of the formal alacrity she can muster.
=/=Lieutenant Sh'iraolnas?=/=
"Yes?" Asovil looks up at the bulkhead above her doorway as though that's where the voice hails from.
=/=This is PO Rogers.=/=
The scientist leans back in her chair and waits for the chemist to continue. Two seconds pass. Three seconds pass. Four seconds— "Yes, Petty Officer?" she finally asks in exasperation.
=/=I'm seeking permission to go to sickbay, sir.=/=
"You're off duty, PO Rogers, is that correct?"
=/=Yes, sir.=/=
"Well," she shakes her head and turns her attention back to the computer screen. "You don't need my permission to go to sick bay. What's your reason?"
=/=Chemical burn.=/=
This gives the department head pause. "How bad?"
=/=Right hand, forearm, thigh, and, uh, groin.=/=
"What in the world are you doing—never mind. Get yourself to sick bay immediately, PO Rogers."
=/=Yes, sir.=/=
Shaking her head, Asovil uses her tongue to feel the ridges on her teeth as she attempts to comprehend what had just happened. Seconds pass and she finally gives up, rises, and strides out of her office while striking her comm badge. "Computer. Where was PO Rogers when he contacted me most recently?"
=/=Petty Officer Rogers was located in the Chemistry Lab.=/=
"What's going on?" Ensign Maize calls out as Asovil makes her way towards the lab door.
"Rogers has just experienced a chem burn that sounds like it may have been pretty extreme." Asovil pauses and turns to look at Maize with a level gaze. "Get to sick bay and make sure he makes it there. Keep me informed."
"Yes, sir."
Lt. Sh'iraolnas doesn't wait for Ensign Maize, but returns to her determined efforts of achieving the Chem Lab in short order. Upon her arrival, the doors steam open revealing a laboratory filled with beakers, tubes, and a noxious olive-green hued haze. Stopped just outside of the door by the sight of the potentially dangerous gas, the scientist immediately closes the doors.
"Computer, analyze the air contaminate within the chem lab," she instructs the ship's computer as she places her hands on her hips and looks down at her polished black boot tips.
=/=Analyzing.=/=
The soft sounds of boots crossing the carpeted corridor draw Asovil's attention. Strolling down the hall with a PADD in hand is a young Terran woman with shock-red hair and a studious expression upon her face. She looks up from her reading long enough to note the Andorian and her eyes widen slightly.
"Och!" the word that escapes her cherry red lips is unfamiliar to the CSO. The petty officer snaps a hasty salute and stops dead in her tracks a couple of meters from the Andorian woman. "Lieutenant!"
Unaware that her expression exhibits worry, Asovil returns the salute without turning from her severe and impatient stance in front of the door.
"Oh, uh," the red-head drops the salute and timidly points towards the door. "Is there a problem with the door, then? Can you no' get inside?"
"There's no problem with the door, Petty Officer," Lt. Sh'iraolnas responds crisply.
"I see," a broad and friendly smile dashes itself against the other woman's even white teeth. "Rogers can be a wee bi' o' a intimidatin' bloke, but you get use'ta ‘im after a time."
"I'm no—"
=/=Analysis complete. Contaminates include 2-mercaptoethanol, Sodium Azide, and Tetrahydrofuran.=/=
"Flush the room!" Asovil immediately addresses the computer with such force and urgency in her voice that the smaller red-headed woman takes a step back.
=/=Flushing the room.=/=
"Is tha', um, bad?"
The Andorian glances to the petty officer and immediately realizes that the woman is genuinely concerned. A concern that penetrates the call to action the air analysis had instigated. Chewing the inside of her bottom lip, Asovil considers her response. The petty officer is wearing the red and black uniform of Command and Flight, but the blue-skinned woman is sure she hasn't seen her about yet. Knowing nothing of this Terran, the CSO makes her decision on how to proceed.
"It has been resolved, but yes. Had someone wandered in there without consideration of the threat, they would likely be severely injured. Perhaps even killed."
"Lordy!" the woman breathes and regards the door with wide eyes. "Is Rogers in there?"
"No." Asovil keeps her own gaze leveled with the woman. "Are you two close?"
"Close?" Guffaws the red-head, bending over at the waist and wheezing through her humor as she clutches the PADD to her stomach. "No! No. Jus' concerned fer the safety o' all the crew, Lieutenant."
"What's your name, Petty Officer?" Asovil continues to regard the woman through narrowed eyes and remains uncertain her response is entirely necessary.
"Petty Officer Secon' Class, Megan Owen, sir!" the PO straightens and wipes the moisture from her crinkled eyes, still very much amused.
"Well, PO Owen," raising her thin, white eyebrows, the Andorian tilts her head to the side and allows her antennae to press forward a bit. "Are you on duty?"
"Oh, no, sir." Megan shakes her head causing her bunched up, curled hair to bounce about the back of her neck. "No' til Beta Shift."
"Fine. Does the Peregrine have any hazmat suits on hand?"
"I dunno, sir," PO Owen shrugs. "Do ya want me t' check with Engineerin'?"
"No, but thank you." Returning her attention to the door, Asovil brushes the imagined strands of hair over her left ear and replaces her hand on her hip. "I don't want to trouble you from your leasure time."
"Tis no trouble, sir," Megan quips. "Truly. I'm happy t' help."
"I appreciate your consideration, Petty Officer, but I'll get this handled."
"Yes, sir," Megan nods, the pretty smile still on her elfish, freckled face. "Have a good day, Lieutenant."
"You too."
Waiting until the bubbly little red-head has moved on down the corridor, Asovil strikes her badge and says, "Lt. Sh'iraolnas to Engineering."
=/=Engineering here.=/=
"There's been a chemical spill in the Chem Lab," she informs them. "Will you please send a crew with hazmat suits to clean it up? The chemicals have been flushed from the air in the room, but one of my team was injured and the contaminates might still be on interior surfaces. Use extreme caution."
=/=Acknowledged.=/=
"Computer," the Andorian promptly changes subjects. "Lock this door and do not allow any non-Engineering personnel to enter without my authorization."
=/=Acknowledged, Lieutenant Sh'iraolnas.=/=
"Computer?" Beginning to walk back towards Lab One, the CSO begins yet another request of the ship's systems. "Did PO Rogers make it to sick bay?"
=/=PO Rogers arrived in sick bay at twelve-twenty hours.=/=
Changing her mind about her destination, Asovil heads for sick bay. Having a short distance to go, the young CSO encounters Ensign Maize returning from the direction of the medical facilities. The smaller woman looks up at her superior officer and gives her a salute, receiving one in return.
"PO Rogers is stable and undergoing treatment. They put him under so he wouldn't have to feel the pain once the shock wore off," Dalia reports grimly, the look in her eyes is reminiscent of a soldier who had just returned from the battlefield.
"How extensive are the injuries?"
"He must have been in shock because those burns were deep," the ensign shakes her head, her blonde ponytail rolling about on the back of her head. "I've never seen anything like it. What chemicals was he messing with?"
"2-mercaptoethanol, Sodium Azide, and Tetrahydrofuran," the Andorian informs her. "Do you know what he could have possibly been working on? And wasn't today his day-off?"
"I don't," Dalia sucks in air through her pursed lips as she mentally reviews the petty officer's work files. "I can't think of any assignment that involves a combination of those chemicals. That would have certainly raised some red flags for me."
"First-year chemistry students know not to be reckless with any of those substances," Asovil confirms. "The combination of the three created quite the deadly environment within the lab. I have asked Engineering to make sure it is cleaned, but they could likely use your assistance with identifying which substances need to remain untouched. I would stay, but I'm not yet familiar enough with the contents of the lab to be of any help."
"I understand," Dalia admits. "I'll head right over there."
"Thank you," Asovil remarks and the ensign salutes one more time before gliding down the hall, a willowy wisp of a pale woman owning the corridor.
Now, with nothing left to do since PO Rogers is now unconscious and wouldn't even be aware of her presence, the beautiful Andorian woman considers returning to her office but is immediately clocked by her subconscious. Tochi! she recalls. "Computer, time?"
=/=The time is now twelve-hundred-thirty-seven hours.=/=
Swearing is unbecoming an officer, an Andorian Imperial Guard, and an Andorian lady. "Damn!" Asovil remarks before rushing down the hall.
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Stardate 2365.02.09 (Tuesday - 42137.6)
USS Peregrine; Deck 5 - Observation Lounge "The Airie" - 12:46
Arriving at the Airie, she steps through a little out of breath and full of apologies. Peering about the length of the brightly lit room, the Andorian woman slows her walk to a stop. Tochi is nowhere to be found. Tapping her badge, she calls to him, "Tochi?"
=/=Hello, Lieutenant,=/= his soft reply is delayed by only a couple of seconds, =/=are we late for lunch?=/=
"Marginally," she replies, relieved that she isn't the tardy one. Moving towards the same table they had sat at the night before, the young officer realizes that the hostess isn't present and that the room has only a couple of others present. "No charm, no growl. I'll simply seat myself and await your arrival."
(OOC: Tochi's response,)
Turning in her chair so that her back is to the door, Asovil affects a calm and relaxed exterior pose as she looks out at the passing stars while inside she feels the press of more butterflies threatening to explode from her chest.
Posted on 2016-10-28 at 15:40:29.
Edited on 2016-10-28 at 15:41:26 by Bromern Sal
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Topic: Star Trek: the Edge of Duty Q&A
Subject: I have a man cold.
... ugh! Man Cold!
Posted on 2016-10-28 at 13:28:14.
Edited on 2016-10-28 at 13:28:47 by Bromern Sal
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Topic: Flesh & Blood - A CyberPunk Game
Subject: Monday.
I'll be posting again Monday. Anyone who doesn't post for their character will have said character be subjected to the whims of the dice.
Posted on 2016-10-27 at 10:34:35.
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Topic: Supernatural Q&A thread
Subject: I enjoyed the Castle post...
Great fun!
Posted on 2016-10-27 at 10:30:46.
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Topic: Star Trek: the Edge of Duty Q&A
Subject: It is always a pleasure, Eol!
As always, I enjoyed the collaboration work.
I've added another post as well. You know... just to keep things moving.
Posted on 2016-10-26 at 19:56:44.
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Topic: Star Trek: the Edge of Duty
Subject: The Reception Continued | Captain's Mast Continued
Stardate 2365.02.08 (Monday - 42136.5)
USS Peregrine Deck 2 - Captain's Mess - 19:22
Haemis finishes off his drink and smiles warmly. "Tis a fast ship. But her top speeds are classified if memory serves. Without know'n what I'm allowed to divulge, I hope you understand that I canna give ye that information. But I can tell ya she's fast." he shifts his weight, fighting that nervous feeling at being in a crowd, even though it may be a small crowd. "Ifinya get the chance, and the Capt'n approves it, we can look into getting you a tour. They might already have one lined up for ye." he snags another drink as Ops passes by with a tray of them, "These are quite good. Have ye had one yet?" he asked looking at the glass.
"Ah, that's the Rytainian Blue Frond Tea," Threel genuinely puffs out his chest with pride. "The tea leaves provide a natural sweetener that is delightful on the palette. I'm pleased that you find it enjoyable."
"We've nothing so sweet on Kuldar that grows from a natural source." D'Lar grins a wolfish baring of teeth and shakes his head causing his greasy hair to flop about his neck like limp eels. "Though some on Kuldar have managed to acquire a taste for it from shipments we've procured."
"Procured, indeed," Threel mumbles just loud enough that Asovil finds herself slightly startled by the indication she can only presume means the Rytainian ambassador is insinuating theft by the Kuldaran people. D'Lar seems not to notice, though the Andorian is positive that he heard.
McTavish continues staring at the liquid for a long moment as if remembering something. The last time he actually drank much of anything was at a friend's wedding prior to the posting on the Coronado. it was a small affair, just a few tents in a park in the middle of Washington—some park he couldn't remember the name of. He did recall that it had a wonderful view.
"Hurricane Ridge!" he says suddenly and randomly as he remembers the name of the park. "That was the place..." he continues under his breath and snapping his fingers. "Lieutenant Pressman and his bride to be. That's where I remember something like this from..." he points to the drink completely oblivious of the exchange between the delegates. "Ach, memories. Sometimes harder to pull data from than a fried isolinear chip!" he shakes his head a moment again, realizing he's rambling.
"Memories, indeed," D'Lar pounces, using the CEO's distracted comments to poke his ambush his counterpart in a very subtle way.
"I believe that a tour of the Peregrine would be an excellent way to have what remaining questions you may have answered," Asovil chimes in, surprising even herself as she impulsively reacts to the desire she feels to ward off potential hostilities. "If one has not already been arranged, perhaps Lieutenant Salad would be kind enough to do so." Unaware that she had mistaken the Ops department head's name for the green-leafed meal, she continues. "We have an impressive ship, and despite security considerations, I'd imagine a large portion of it could be showcased for your entertainment."
"Yes," Threel pulls the sour look he's giving D'Lar away as though it were being drawn in by a persistent tractor beam and forces a friendly smile back upon his orange lips. "I would find that amusing."
"I think I'll have to decline any such invitations," the Kuldaran dignitary waves his scaly hand as though to shoo the thought from his mind. "I've much to review in order to be fully prepared for the summit."
Glancing sidelong at Tochi, the blue-skinned beauty wonders at his thoughts. He appears calm and collected, engaged a minimum of what decorum calls for, witty, and in control, but she considers whether he is contemplative, astute, and observant.
Stardate 2365.02.09 (Tuesday - 42137.6)
USS Peregrine; Deck 1 - Captain's Mess - 14:05
The silence in the room is palpable. Asovil finally deigns to regard Chief Crane's expression and studies it with unfeigned interest as Captain Drake continues. "If you wish to confer with your advocate, Chief Crane, you may do so now. I need to know which course you would prefer to take."
"There's no need to confer, Captain," Chief Crane's voice maintains a steady and level tone. "I am fully prepared to accept your ruling in this matter, sir."
Lt. Sh'iraolnas presses her lips together and finds herself surprisingly relieved by the CPO's decision. Knowing full well that Tochi is Lauren's advocate, having discussed some of the details at lunch, Asovil can only surmise that the woman has made the best possible decision for her future. Returning her attention to Captain Drake, the Andorian awaits the continuance of the Captain's Mast.
Judging by Captain Drake's disposition, Chief Crane's decision is satisfactory in the Chief Science Officer's opinion.
"Fair enough, Chief," Silas answers in what Asovil deems a neutral tone, "with that being the case, I will proceed to the heart of the matter."
The Captain pauses for a moment and looks around the room before fixing his gaze once again on Crane. The blue-skinned scientist takes the momentary lull to perform a similar assessment. Each of the officers present at the table were all accomplished in their poker faces so that any analysis is rendered inept. Slightly put out (though unaware as to why, exactly), Asovil returns her attention to her captain as he resumes the proceedings.
"This morning at oh eight thirty," Silas begins, "I had a meeting with Lieutenant Sh'iraolnas. As we recapped her impressions of her new department, she revealed to me that the two of you had a meeting yesterday evening, during which you confessed that you were, in fact, the individual responsible for the arrest of Lieutenant Tesenblen. According to Lieutenant Sh'iraolnas' report, you had concerns with the study of the wolfsbane and the potential impact in terms of safety to the crew and the mission."
Drake pauses for a moment. "I was told that you raised these concerns to Lieutenant Tesenblen, but that he was not swayed, and cited the containment plan he had developed and I had sanctioned. From what I understand, you felt that since I had already approved his research and his plan, that your concerns would fall on deaf ears. You then contacted security aboard Starbase 118 to report the illegal research that Lieutenant Tesenblen was conducting."
The Captain pauses again, and the holographic projectors leap to life displaying a time stamped communications log. Drake gestures to the projection.
"The communications log between the Peregrine and Starbase 118 appears to corroborate this account. Please note the highlighted entry—stardate 42135.3. Communication initiated from Chief Petty Officer Lauren Crane to Starbase 118 security, duration six minutes, twelve seconds."
The Captain sighs ever so slightly inviting a quizzical expression to momentarily flit across the Andorian woman's smooth features. "Furthermore, an interview with your roommate, one Chief Petty Officer Dana Cook, reveals that you told her an essentially identical story to the one you told Lieutenant Sh'iraolnas."
Silas interlaces his fingers atop the table and regards the accused. "Chief Crane, to be quite honest with you, the facts seem to be exceptionally clear. However, I will now give you the chance to present your version of the events in question. While I rather doubt that you will be able to tender any facts to call into question the veracity of the evidence I have related, it is possible that you may still present some mitigating circumstance of which I am not privy. This is your chance to speak, so please, include any information that you feel may be relevant to this proceeding."
With that, the Captain leans back in his chair and waits for the Chief's response. Lauren's earth-colored eyes sink to the enamelled tabletop for a moment and she breathes in deeply. Exhaling slowly, she makes her lips vanish in an expression of pressed consideration and then wets them as they appear once again with the tip of her tongue. Looking back towards Captain Drake, the diminutive woman affects an expression of still, resigned calm.
"Sir," she initiates, "when Lieutenant Tesenblen brought the wolfsbane on board, I dismissed it as another of his personal projects and assumed he had taken all of the necessary steps to resolve any concerns. However, once I learned that the summit delegation had chosen the Peregrine as their transportation, the thought struck me that the wolfsbane could be used by one side or the other to dismantle the peace talks by eliminating the opposing ambassador. I took my concerns to Lieutenant Tesenblen, and as you've already acknowledged, he dismissed them by stating that he had a proper containment field in place and that you, sir, had already approved his protocol.
"Having been informed that you, sir, were both privy to and accepting of his plan, I felt the need to take alternative action. This is where I know I went wrong, sir. I should have requested a meeting with Lieutenant Zai, or even you directly, sir. I know this. But at the time, I felt that there were no open lines of command through which I could resolve this potential threat to the mission and this ship." Lauren wets her lips again with the tip of her tongue and for the first time, Asovil witnesses her break from her stoic mask as her muddy eyes dart quickly towards where Tochi sits. The act is cause enough to start the Andorian woman's mind to mulling over the conversation she and the Trill had shared at lunch concerning the Mast, and she resides within those thoughts until Chief Crane continues.
"My reasoning was not, by any means, perfect, sir," the smallish woman acknowledges grimly. "I can assure you, though, that my actions were not malicious. Nor were they with the intent to do anything other than eliminate a potential threat to our mission.
"Everyone on board the Peregrine knows that Lieutenant Zai is, well, for lack of a more delicate way of phrasing it, your right-hand man. And this was occuring during the change in Ops leadership—" Asovil glances at the Risan seated next to Tochi and wonders when they'll have the opportunity to speak while Lauren continues. "—so, I felt that all of my immediate command options were either of a similar mind, or too new to the role to, perhaps, be of proper assistance. That sounds harsh, or mean, but I don't mean it to.
"I—I was at a loss, sir," she continues, holding herself in rigid poise despite the obvious emotion in her voice. "I figured that if I passed my concerns on to the security personnel at Starbase One-One-Eight, the concern could then become theirs, and if they decided it bore merit, well, then, someone from Starbase One-One-Eight could contact you. I never thought for a moment that they would come directly for Lieutenant Tesenblen and arrest him, nor that they would confiscate the majority of the lab, or cause this ship the problems that my actions have caused."
Lauren looks back to the table's surface and takes another deep breath before lifting her gaze to meet the unwaveringly stern eyes of her commanding officer. "I am fully aware of my error in circumventing the chain of command, sir, and I am wholly filled with regret at the action and the consequences thereof."
As she finishes, the gulping motion of her throat is very pronounced, though Asovil doesn't hear any sound to accompany it. Glancing from Chief Crane's sorrowful face to the rock-like demeanor of Captain Drake, Lt. Sh'iraolnas is caught by Tochi's words. The calm tone and diplomatic tremor in his voice draws her eyes like a Phertoni to a light.
Posted on 2016-10-26 at 19:54:53.
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Topic: Star Trek: the Edge of Duty Q&A
Subject: We've missed ya!
But we understand. Use voice-to-text... there's no writing involved. 
Posted on 2016-10-25 at 18:17:06.
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Topic: Star Trek: the Edge of Duty Q&A
Subject: It is indeed!
And I've no other quip to add to that... I've posted something lengthy to tide people who are interested in reading over until Eol and I finish out collaboration, though. Or, of course, until Olan posts his continuation.
Posted on 2016-10-25 at 16:51:08.
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