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Topic: The Bleeding Lute Q&A : Where everybody knows your name
Subject: Remind me...
...Finn has red hair, yes?
Posted on 2017-05-10 at 15:37:59.
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Topic: The Bleeding Lute - Come on in and Play!
Subject: Finn!!! So good to see you!
"Since before the first frost of last year," a familiar voice called over the creaking of the stairs, "Nine. Long. Months, and truth tell, the harvest before that wasn't strong, either."
Talca glanced over his shoulder and, grinning a bit, offered a faint up-nod to the approaching druid. There might have been a brief snort of a chuckle, too, when the ranger's eyes panned back around to his meal. He had just scooped spoonful of stew into his mouth when Finn dragged a stool up beside him.
"I thought I smelled something tough and gamey," the druid jabbed from behind a wry grin before reaching a grimy finger over and helping himself to a sampling of the honey butter. "Hmmmm, that's nice."
The pathfinder rolled his eyes and chuffed; "I'm sure it'll be all the nicer for the seasonings you've just added. I'd have lent you my knife, you know?" He eyed Finn sidelong for an instant, the grin tugging at the corners of his mouth stretching a bit wider as he shook his head slowly and spooned up another mouthful of stew.
"A bowl for me too," the bedraggled druid requests with a casual glance in Maria's direction, "and if there's any cheese left in the cellar I'd take what you've got. I don't expect it to be cheap if there is". Finn rummages inside his haversack but after a few awkward moments of fumbling he gives up. With a disgruntled sigh he upends the bag and dumps the contents right onto the bar, an eclectic array of garbage to the casual observer.
"Forgot I had that" he says; sniffing an odd looking bit of detritus before returning it to the haversack.
There was a half-snorting, half-choking sound as Talca tried to laugh and swallow his food all at once. The elf dropped his spoon unceremoniously into the bowl of stew and reached for his wine, pouring a swallow down his throat to soothe the snigger-strewn coughing fit he'd had as a result of forcing food into his gullet around an outburst of tickled laughter. He'd scarcely managed to suppress the chuckle-cough and lift the cup to his lips by the time Finn had separated a handful of crusty coppers and a small jar of what looked to be peppercorns from the chaotic spill of odds and ends on the bar.
"I'm clearing off after I eat and I don't expect to be back for, awhile,"
Talca arched a brow at Finn's declaration that he'd be leaving so soon. When he'd first heard the druid's voice, just moments ago, the ranger had hoped the other man might be around for, at least, a few hours. It had been a long while since last the two had met and the elven pathfinder was sure there were many tales to catch up on. As he was in the middle of washing the roughness of his sudden coughing fit back down into the pit of his stomach, though, he was unable to interject anything else just yet.
",So you let me know if you prefer the coin or the peppercorns, here, for the food and the room."
While Maria tries to make sense of the options which Finn had just presented for settling his bill, the druid's gaze turns back to Talca. "So, tell me," he asked with a wink, "is it really rabbit or a couple of oversized weed-rats you dressed in a fancy wrapper? Cause I'll be able to taste the difference, stewed or otherwise."
"They're truly rabbits," Talca snickered, thumbing a stray drop of wine from his lips, "unless the weed-rats hereabouts have grown long ears and fluffy tails since last I was in." He set the cup aside, then, and turned a bit on his stool toward the druid. "Of course," he added with a shrug and a broad grin, "It would be my luck that Cookie would ladle you out a bowl with both of the cottontails arseholes in it and you'd swear it was rat, anyway," The elf inclined his head toward Finn's proffered payment, then, ", and he may just do it on purpose for that.
It's good to see you, again, Finn," the ranger continued, extending a hand in greeting, "It's been far too long."
((OOC: Assuming Finn doesn't leave Talca hanging, A friendly "clasping of forearms" and such,))
Letting go of the other man's arm and turning back to his meal again, Talca waves a dismissive hand at the stack of coppers in front of Finn and, before taking his spoon up again, he slid one of the newly acquired foreign silvers over to his old friend. "Your meal and your room; courtesy of those atani who needed no guide, only information," the elf grins. "So, mellonamin," he continued, lifting a spoonful of stew to his lips, "where are you bound that you'd be leaving so soon?"
Posted on 2017-05-10 at 14:10:19.
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Topic: Star Trek: the Edge of Duty Q&A
Subject: In that case...
...I'll leave Moore to Boo Boo and Berk to Ody.
I think, instead, I might see what's going on in Flight Control just to keep my fingers busy. 
Posted on 2017-05-10 at 12:32:15.
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Topic: Star Trek: the Edge of Duty Q&A
Subject: I second that promotion!
I suppose I could do the same thing... I've been looking to write something, anyway.
Let's see what I can come up with... I'll take a crack at Dr Moore, first, I guess and, then, if we don't hear from Brennus in the next little bit, I can likely offer up something for TAC.
Edit: Actually, I think Boo Boo might've covered Dr. Moore well enough in that last post (at least until there comes more for the good Doctor to do). I've got a few ideas for some random NPCs that I can look into, though.
Posted on 2017-05-10 at 10:19:27.
Edited on 2017-05-10 at 10:35:33 by Eol Fefalas
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Topic: The Bleeding Lute Q&A : Where everybody knows your name
Subject: *pokes*
The Lute is open again, folks, and Celeste has set up a rather intriguing scenario to toy around with. Why not come check it out? 
Posted on 2017-05-09 at 14:56:05.
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Topic: The Bleeding Lute - Come on in and Play!
Subject: Would that it was more...
"Well, look at those," Maria exclaimed, her nose crinkling up in an endearing expression of appreciation, "Mighty kind of you, Talca. It's been damn hard to find much in the way of meat these days. Cookie'll be right pleased."
"Saesa amin," the ranger grinned as she took the bundle he'd offered and glided toward the kitchen. As small as they were, there was still much more meat on the rabbits than he'd have been able to eat, himself, and, as he'd found himself without a party to guide, offering them up to the Lute's kitchen was the least he could do. This place and its people had always been good to him, even if he wasn't exactly what might be considered a "regular," and, when he was looking for work, The Bleeding Lute never failed to produce a party in need of a guide. It wasn't home, but it was as close to it as any place outside of the wilds.
In Maria's absence, Talca's gaze swept the place, taking in the varied and various knots of clientele that didn't quite fill the establishment on this early evening,
"Ye'll nae be findin' any deer's healthy enough fer th' takin', there," a dwarven hunter slammed a fist down on the map covered table and groused loudly at one of the humans in his group, "I keep tellin' ye so, an' ye keep failin' ta hear me words! E'en ef ye were ta flush oot a stag, there, lad, ye'd need twicet th' luck an' more ta e'er think aboot getting' et oota there wi' yer own skin intact!"
,a slow tip of wine to his lips brought his eyes to the next group,
"Dajan!" One of the men proclaimed triumphantly as the dice fell in his favor. He offered a taunting grin to one of the others; "That's two you owe us!"
The other man snorted in irritation. "I'll give ya two in blood, Jahn," he growled, fingering the blade at his hip, his eyes glowering in the direction of the bard rather than his celebrating compatriot, "Maybe even four if that FOOKIN' MINSTREL DON'T PLAY SOMETHIN' ELSE!!!"
,The less than veiled threat coaxed a look of concern for the bard's safety out of Talca's features before the disheartened chatter from the tableful of farmers,
"Half the town's already up in arms about it," one of them lamented into his cup, "if the fields don't go fallow on their own, I'm afraid we're like to see ‘em burnt black by a mob before long."
"It's not as if we ain't tryin'," another dejectedly sighed, "We're doin' the same as we've a'ways done, aft'rall. The fields jus' ain't takin'. I dunno what we're to do ‘bout it as ain't already been done."
,Maria's return tore his attentions from the Lute's patronage, then, and, swallowing a mouthful of wine that felt as if had suddenly gone sour on his tongue, Talca set his cup aside and offered the woman a grateful (albeit, somehow saddened) smile when she placed the stew and bread before him. He was about to voice his thanks, in fact, but was cut short by Cookie's rather unexpected appearance. The kitchen door banged open and there he stood, glowering and taciturn; a large, beefy hand stroking the stubble on his iron lantern of a jaw. His black eyes found the Talca's honey colored ones, and he stared hard. As the seconds ticked on, his gaze didn't waver, and Maria shifted uncomfortably behind him.
Talca met the imposing man's gaze evenly if somewhat apprehensively, Had the coneys gone sour, he wondered? Had there been some bit of an arrowhead that he'd missed when dressing them out?
Then, far more delicately that might have been expected by a man of Cookie's size, he reached out and deposited a tiny crock next to the bread Maria had brought. "Thank you," he rumbled.
The pathfinder offered an affable smile and a nod in reply as the big man turned and, en route back to his kitchen, paused just long enough to delicately scrawl out the words ‘Rabit Stu' on the slate hanging behind the bar.
Still smiling, Talca's eyes followed Maria's as they dipped meaningfully to the tiny crock, Honey butter, he realized happily, His smile grew all the more as his gaze lifted and found the barmaid's eyes, again.
"No charge," Maria giggled softly.
"And a personal visit from the man, himself," Talca snickered in reply, offering a wink and dipping a finger into the crock, "All for a couple of wee rabbits." The finger went from the crock and into his mouth, then, and his eyes closed briefly as he savored the sweetness of it. "Mmmm," he nodded appreciatively, pulling a slim bladed knife from his belt to carve off a slice of bread and smear a portion of the butter on it.
"How long has it been like this, lirimaer," he asked, gesturing vaguely around the place with the buttered bread before dipping it into the stew and poking it into his mouth, "I don't seem to recall Lynnbrooke being anywhere near this bad off when last I came through?"
Posted on 2017-05-09 at 14:45:37.
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Topic: Star Trek: the Edge of Duty Q&A
Subject: I concur...
...whole heartedly!
Nice post, Boo Boo.
Posted on 2017-05-08 at 18:46:35.
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Topic: Star Trek: the Edge of Duty Q&A
Subject: Duly chastised
And posted as such.
Posted on 2017-05-08 at 12:53:45.
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Topic: Star Trek: the Edge of Duty
Subject: Shutting up and flying the ship, sir...
Stardate 2365.02.11
USS Peregrine; Deck 1 - Bridge - 1102
",We follow your orders, Captain Drake, not Jacobs'. Tell me where to be, sir."
Tochi's fingers hovered scant microns above his console as Silas, stroking his chin in deliberation, scowled in silence. The Captain's reticence lasted, perhaps, only a second or two but, between the goings on aboard Peregrine and the sleep-deprived fatigue that had begun to settle in as a result, the Trill's patience had already been worn thin these last days. That span of a couple of seconds seemed more like minutes, somehow, and the Trill very nearly found himself prompting Silas, again, with a more emphatic "Captain?!"
"Depth charges," Drake said, a crooked grin beginning to tug at the corners of his mouth. It wasn't a response that Tochi had anticipated, of course, but it had been enough to pre-empt his planned prodding.
"Lt Zai," the Captain ordered in the wake of a deep breath, "lay in a course to form up on the Coronado and engage at one-quarter impulse,"
What?! Tochi heard the incredulous tone in this unspoken reply and hoped that that skepticism hadn't quite made it from his mind to his face before he turned to tend his console. "Aye, sir," was the reply Tochi voiced aloud as his fingers stabbed in the commands, "Forming up on the Coronado. Zero-zero-zero mark four-five, relative; one-quarter impulse." As the Peregrine responded to the Trill's course corrections, Drake continued from behind him.
",In the meantime, Lieutenant Berk, analyze the data from Lieutenant Sh'iraolnas. Compare the last known position of the Stormspike and extrapolate her current speed and vector. Use the computer and come up with the most probable locations, then prepare two full spreads of photon torpedoes to detonate five kilometers from those positions; I think that a ten isoton payload should be sufficient. With any luck, we'll find the Stormspike, and disable rather than destroy her. If this works, we'll adjust the plan as need be."
((OOC: Berk's response, here,))
Tochi was in the midst of both guiding the Peregrine into formation with the Coronado and mentally chastising himself for doubting Silas' decision when he felt the Captain's gaze boring into the back of his head. "Lt Zai," Drake spoke in a firm, no nonsense tone, "I appreciate your support more than you can know. However, as both your friend and your commanding officer, I cannot allow you to repeat the behavior you exhibited during our last call with Captain Jacobs. Lieutenant, unless you are directly addressed, you will be silent during such communications in the future, is that abundantly clear?"
"Yes, sir," Zai responded without turning to face the man, "Our apologies, Captain," He let whatever explanation or excuse he might have conjured up die a silent death in his thoughts and, instead, kept his attentions focused on the viewer and his nav-displays.
"I'm a big boy, Tochi," Silas continued, his tone softer now, "I can fight my own battles. You standing up for me will only end in reprimands or worse for you. Be silent from here on out, that is an order."
We'd just as soon face those reprimands as pilot an attack run on an innocent and grossly outmatched people, for the sake of Jacobs' ego, the Trill mused sullenly. Given the order he'd just received, though, he dared not give the thought voice. Rather, he ensured that his plotted course provided Tactical with feasible firing solutions and answered simply; "Aye, sir."
"Mister Berk," Drake said, then, "assuming you have those firing solutions, you may fire at will."
((OOC: Again, assuming Berk complies, selects his firing solution, and launches Drake's ‘depth charges',))
The familiar whine and thrum of the torpedo tubes deploying their deadly payload coincides with and masks Tochi's apprehensive sigh as his gaze dances from console to viewscreen. He watches the twin volleys of photon torpedoes spread into space, hoping that they'll have the desired effect. Then his eyes take in the still reacting Kuldaran fleet, his mind already calculating the best course options and attack patterns should the Stormspike remain unrevealed,
Posted on 2017-05-08 at 12:50:56.
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Topic: The Bleeding Lute - Come on in and Play!
Subject: A scene or two...
On the road outside - late afternoon
The door of The Bleeding Lute opened and spit four, obviously travel-weary, men into the street. Milling in the road just outside those doors, the men were grumbling amongst themselves as they hitched their packs to their shoulders and, each in turn, sent their gazes in different directions. Two of them simply seemed to be scanning the street, north and south, as if to verify nothing had changed in the hour that had passed since they'd entered the inn. Another turned his imploring eyes skyward; seeking signs of impending weather, perhaps, or, maybe, sending up a silent prayer to some yet to be named god or goddess. The fourth man, though, focused his gaze on the door that had just banged shut behind them; scowling at the portal and scratching absently at his beard while he contemplated.
"That is what seven Brissans buys us," that fourth man groused after a long moment, finally letting go of his irritated study of the inn's door, "She's been taken to the Chakran Mountains?! Nothing about who, or how many, they might be? Nothing about which route they might have taken? I'm half tempted to go back in there and take back half that silver, or at least take it out of that cursed elf's hide!"
"Take it easy, Curlan," encouraged the man who had, heretofore, been eyeing the skies, "That's more information than we've had in weeks and,"
"Easy?!?!" The one called Curlan spun on his heel and glared angrily at the other; "This is easy, Boorl! You really don't want to see anything else from me, just now!
And don't tell me about weeks! We've been doing this for months! Months!!!"
The other two had moved to put themselves between their compatriots in order to keep the exchange from coming to blows. It was an unnecessary intervention, though, as Boorl had already raised his hands in a placating fashion and backed a few steps away from the larger Curlan.
"I know," Boorl was saying, "I've been with you since the day after she went missing. And, my friend, I didn't mean to offend you. I was simply saying that, as information goes, what that elven fellow, there, gave us, was more than worth the silver we parted with to get it. She was seen just west of the city less than a week ago, alive. Local outfitters sold members of the party she was with mountaineering equipment. Incoming caravans passed them just days ago, obviously bound for the Chakrans,"
Curlan's shoulders slumped in the wake of the sigh he heaved into the air, just then, and the scowl eased a bit if it didn't melt completely away.
"Th' elf did offer ta guide us," one of the others said, offering a faint shrug as his gaze drifted back from its surveillance of the road and found Curlan's face, "We coulda jus' took ‘im up on it an',"
"And possibly wasted coin that we're already precious short on," Boorl cut the other man off before the scowl could return to Curlan's lips. "His retainer, alone, would've cut into what we've set aside for rations and the gods only know what other expenses he'd incur for us along the way."
"He mighta got us there faster, too," the other man murmured in mild protest, "an' saved us more coin then's right we oughta spend out."
"Jory," Boorl cautioned.
Jory flinched and raised his hands. "He said he knew th' aree like th' back ta his hand's all I'm sayin'," he offered as he took a step back, "an' we don' know nothin' bout nothin' since we crossed off th' border a fortnight ago,
"JORY!" Curlan snapped, now, "We're not hiring the pathfinder!"
"Fine," Jory demurred, dropping his hands and turning his eyes back to the road,
Curlan sighed again, his voice softer, somewhat apologetic, when he added; "This ain't the business of elves, anyway, Jor.."
"Tha's fine, I said," Jory interrupted without looking back, "Yer th' boss. We ain't hirin' th' damn pathfinder..." He muttered something else under his breath, too, but it was indistinct enough that none of the rest truly heard what it might have been.
Boorl and Curlan exchanged a glance and a shake of their heads and, Gar, the one of the four whom had yet to speak, asked the only question that remained. "Well," he drawled, his voice as deep and craggy as the wrinkles that encircled his eyes and disappeared into the great grey bush of a beard sprouting from his cheeks, "what are we going to do then?"
Once more, Curlan and Boorl traded looks and, following yet another sigh and an imperceptible shake of his head, the larger man gestured vaguely westward. "We go west until we start to lose the light," Curlan said flatly, "then we find lodging or make camp til morn."
"I suggest we get to it, then," Gar rumbled, the butt of his staff grinding into the gravel of the road as he strode in the direction Curlan had indicated, "the light won't last us much the longer."
"Er we coulda stayed here, t'night," Jory grumbled, cinching up his pack and trudging into step with the old greybeard, "not had ta sleep on th' damn bumpy ground fer a change,"
Boorl clapped Curlan on the shoulder, then, and, adjusting his own gear as he went, set off on the road behind the other men, leaving Curlan a step or two behind, sardonically contemplating The Bleeding Lute's door, for another instant.
",coulda hired tha' elf feller, too," he heard Jory continue to grouse. "We's only gon' hafta go thru elf lands on our way ta th' mountains but, nah, Jory, this ain't no concern o' elfs, hope ya don' regret yer choosin',"
Curlan tore his gaze from the Inn's door, spit in the dust at his feet as he snugged up the straps of his own gear, and hauled in a determined breath as his eyes framed the backs of his compatriots and the road ahead. "I hope not, too, Jory," he all but whispered as he set off after the men who had followed him on this quest, "I suppose we'll soon see."
Inside the Bleeding Lute
"You really should have tried harder to get them to hire you, hon," Maria cooed at the elf that stood on the opposite side of the bar, absently toying with a newly acquired piece of silver, "I've the feeling that folk like that'll have more than a bit of trouble in the Hith without the likes of you."
The elf's golden eyes danced up from their contemplation of the foreign coin, flicked briefly toward the door through which the men of whom she spoke had recently departed, and sparkled in the wake of the smile he offered when his gaze met hers. "I tried to tell them much the same, Maria," he offered with a shrug, "but, that big one, he didn't want a guide. There's more to their tale than what they're telling, I imagine,"
"Talca thinks he can read people like he reads trails," snorted Statler from his typical perch at the end of the bar.
"I didn't know Talca could read at all," chortled Waldorf, rocking forward on his usual stool flanking Statler as both men enjoyed a laugh at the elf's expense.
For his part, the elven Pathfinder known as Talca simply offered an amused glance in the direction of the two, old barflies, a faint chuckle at their tired joke, and a grin as he turned his attentions back to the Lute's bartender and the cup of mulled wine she had poured from him.
"Will you be in long," Maria asked, though she knew his answer before he spoke it.
"That remains to be seen," Talca smiled, his long, graceful fingers curling around the cup. "It's been two months since last I was here," he mused following a sip of the wine,
"Two and a half," Maria corrected, "almost three."
,The ranger grinned and nodded his concession and, lifting a hand to tuck a spilled braid of chestnut hair behind a pointed ear, and tilting his head toward the door, continued; "That group obviously won't be hiring me to join them, but they did leave me with a bit of fresh silver,"
The curvy, dark-haired barmaid rolled a hip and leaned almost seductively over her side of the bar top. "So you thought you might get yourself a room at The Lute, tonight," she purred, reaching out to brush a bit of road dust from Talca's well-worn leathers, "Have a bath, some supper, and maybe more than a few drinks before you're hired off again?"
"You know me well, melui," Talca winked.
"Well enough," Maria winked back, "but, maybe not as well as I'd like, hon."
The ranger grinned and, possibly, blushed, although, if he did, he managed to hide it behind the tip of his cup as he took another swallow of wine. "I'll need that bath first, then," he chuckled as the cup returned to the bar top and he licked a drop of wine from his lips.
"I'll see to it," Maria chuckled in response, and, offering another playful wink as she pushed away from the counter and made her way down the bar to top off the two old barflies' drinks, added, "You might, also, want that supper, first. You may need the energy."
Talca, as stealthy as he was in the wild, was nowhere near able to camouflage the flushing of his cheeks at that. "I'm sure I would," he laughed softly,
As jovial as the conversation with Maria might have been, though, and as much as that cheery veil was propped up by the songs played by the bard who occupied the tavern's stage, the atmosphere in the Bleeding Lute was uncharacteristically guarded and somber. It wasn't just the Inn, either; the entire city of Lynnbrooke, along with the outlying farmlands and settlements, seemed to be mired in the doldrums that came with the blight which had recently fallen over the place. No amount of friendly, playful chit-chat or any number of bright and breezy ballads could scour that pall from the air.
"What'll you have, then, hon," Maria asked, her gaze returning to Talca after having swept the room in search of other patrons who might need her attention, "We've got little but stew, at the time, but it's not terrible."
"The stew will do," Talca nodded faintly. As he did so, he leaned over in his seat and reached down to tug open his pack. "I've got a brace of coneys that I rousted out, this morning," he said, producing a neatly wrapped bundle from the pack and offering it over to the dark-haired woman, "Not the largest rabbits I've ever seen in these parts, but, I imagine, they'll go a fair way toward stretching out that stew. Cookie's welcome to them, if he'd like,"
Posted on 2017-05-08 at 09:34:03.
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Topic: The Bleeding Lute Restart - IT'S NOT A DROUGHT, JIM
Subject: Ooooooh...
...I'm sure Tatiana would be welcome! Stop on in and see.
Posted on 2017-05-08 at 09:03:56.
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Topic: The Bleeding Lute Restart - IT'S NOT A DROUGHT, JIM
Subject: W00t!!!
Off to the Lute we go!!!!
Welcome back, melui!
Posted on 2017-05-08 at 08:49:40.
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Topic: Star Trek: the Edge of Duty Q&A
Subject: Frillin' Jacobs!!! *grrrrr*
I doubt it'll take out Jacobs but the Minister and the Attache are certainly done for... and probably a nice little chunk of the Coronado's VIP quarters.
Working on a dejected Trill post *winkwinknudgenudge*. Hope to have it ready to go in the next little bit.
Posted on 2017-05-08 at 08:33:13.
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Topic: Star Trek: the Edge of Duty Q&A
Subject: Yeah...
...but Tochi likes it! 
Also, re: the bit aboard the Coronado... That particular scene occurs just before the explosion aboard the Corondao and is, in fact, part and parcel of that same explosion.
Posted on 2017-05-08 at 08:14:32.
Edited on 2017-05-08 at 08:15:33 by Eol Fefalas
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Topic: Star Trek: the Edge of Duty Q&A
Subject: Yay!!!
Let's follow orders!
"Sit down and shut up, Tochi!"
"Sitting down and shutting up; aye sir!"
Posted on 2017-05-08 at 07:47:02.
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Topic: Sense8 - Netflix
Subject: Yeah...
...it's very trippy for sure. Took me a couple of episodes to figure out exactly what was going on. Almost didn't finish season one, myself, but about 3 or 4 episodes in it started to hit it's stride and i was hooked.
Posted on 2017-05-07 at 07:16:33.
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Topic: Sense8 - Netflix
Subject: Season 2!!!!
Is available, now! I'm excited!
Posted on 2017-05-05 at 18:37:11.
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Topic: Ummm... yeah....
Subject: Oh, please do!!!!
This place has gone far too long without a Celeste post! 
Posted on 2017-05-05 at 11:23:59.
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Topic: Ummm... yeah....
Subject: I KNOW!!!
And I've spotted him more than once in the past couple of days! He DO exist! He do, he do, he doooo-oo!!!
Posted on 2017-05-05 at 10:02:03.
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Topic: Ummm... yeah....
Subject: I'm pretty sure...
...we were talking about the deliciousness that is Arby's... or were we talking about the unholy joining of pizza and pineapple that let the the evolution of a super-race of mutant mango marsupials?
I got lost at bacon and cheddar to be honest.
Posted on 2017-05-04 at 15:58:19.
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Topic: Ummm... yeah....
Subject: Ummm... yeah....
...I'm getting a little anxious about the lack of posting I'm seeing, here, so...
Seriously... is Arby's having roast beef sale or something?
Posted on 2017-05-04 at 11:39:04.
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Topic: Star Trek: the Edge of Duty Q&A
Subject: So glad...
...it passed muster! It was mostly a reactionary post where Tochi was concerned and I wasn't sure that it was really up to snuff... but if Brom liked it, I'm a happy camper!
Posted on 2017-05-01 at 17:53:50.
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Topic: Star Trek: the Edge of Duty Q&A
Subject: Posted!
Boo Boo - If it helps, you can assume that Tochi has already contacted Flight Control and has shuttle pilots on stand by to retrieve any escape pods and/or otherwise assist in rescue efforts (could provide some fodder for medical prepping for aid and assistance if need be). Feel free to interact with NPCs (or PM me for collab) where that might be concerned.
Olan - please say we're gonna fly in Jacobs' face! PLEEEEAAAAAAASSSSSSSSSEEEEE!!!!
Posted on 2017-05-01 at 15:48:26.
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Topic: Star Trek: the Edge of Duty
Subject: Your orders, sir?
Stardate 2365.02.11
USS Peregrine; Deck 1 - Bridge - 1056
"Captain," Lt Sh'iraolnas called out, her antennae tilted expectantly forward, "With your permission, I would like to polarize the hull. If the Stormspike has the means to attack from a cloaked position, we need to ensure that we aren't taken by surprise. Polarizing the hull will help sturdy the Peregrine's structure against energy attacks among other things."
Drake nodded in response to the ingenious suggestion. "I see no evidence that they actually fired on the Coronado, Lieutenant, but discretion would be the better part of valor, here. Make it happen."
With a moment to take a breath, Tochi spoke up again. "We might also add, Captain," he said, his gaze framing Silas and the Ambassadors, now, "Our observations suggest that neither the Kuldaran or Rytainian fleets reacted as if they had any foreknowledge of the Stormspike's attack. Neither have we seen any evidence that the explosion aboard the Coronado is the result of weapons-fire..." He scowled as his gaze panned slowly from D'Lar to Threel. "...If you don't mind our saying, sir," the Trill offered, levelly meeting Silas' eyes, now, "We believe that D'Lar is speaking the truth..."
Drake double checked the displays; Tochi was, of course, correct in assessing the situation. Both fleets were forming as if the attack were unexpected, as if they were the targets of the actions. Why would the Kuldar send one vessel and not follow up with the might of their fleet?
The Captain nodded in assent. "Lieutenant Zai, I believe that you are correct. I won't yet venture to guess who is behind this attack, but it seems highly unlikely to be an act of the Kuldarian government... though I presume that we are, in fact, expected to believe that it is."
The words had barely passed Drake's lips when Threel objects with a passion. "This is an outrage!" he bleats. "My people are savagely attacked, murdered in a filthy Kuldarian sneak attack, and you would absolve them of this crime?"
Tochi's scowl etches itself deeper into his visage at Threel's protest. A seed of uncertainty regarding the Rytain Ambassador had been planted in the Trill's mind at the reception and, over the course of the days that had followed, had been nurtured by the fact that Threel never seemed to miss an opportunity (often even went out of his way) to voice just how violent and unpredictable his Kuldaran counterpart's people could be,
Methinks thou dost protest too much, the ancient quotes echoes (not for the first time) in Tochi's mind. It's all he can do to keep from voicing it aloud, though, and, quite literally biting his tongue, he forces his attentions back to the helm.
,That seed of uncertainty had now bloomed fully into a flower of vibrant distrust but the Trill managed to swallow the accusations he desperately wanted to hurl in Threel's direction. Instead, he eyed his consoles, taking in the updated Tactical feed that now included input from Asovil's station, then let his gaze sweep the viewer in order to correlate the computer and sensor data with what could be physically seen.
"Ambassador Threel," Tochi could only imagine the look on Silas' face, just then, but by the sound of the Captain's voice, it was a look he'd rather not see, imagined or otherwise, "I am quite certain that I did not stutter when instructed you to sit and be silent. You have become a major distraction, and a lack of focus could cost lives. Petty officer, escort the ambassador to his quarters at once, please, where he will remain until danger has passed. If he resists, stun him and drag him to the brig."
"Aye, sir." Threel's escort acknowledged as Tochi maneuvered the Peregrine toward what he now believed might be the most likely intercept course.
The Trill's scowl evolved into something of a smirk as the Rytain diplomat, indignantly screeching like a wounded feather-ape, is all but forcefully escorted from the bridge. Threel's outrage sounds genuine, of course, but Tochi isn't entirely sure that the man's indignation stems from some perceived loss of face or, instead, from no longer being in a position to try and sway opinion,
"Mr. Lasad, Mr' Sh'iraolnas," Drake barks, "Find me that frakking ship!"
Tochi's gaze flits to the left, hoping that either Dio or Asovil will have anything else which might aid in his guiding the Peregrine on an appropriate intercept of the apparently rogue Kuldar ship. The Andorian beauty seems lost in the data cascading across her console, the look of determination and contemplation on her features denoting the fury with which her analytical mind was trying to find a solution to isolating the Stormspike. The Risian Ops Chief, too, seemed to be immersed in his own data-stream but, just before the Trill's gaze let go of him, Lt Lasad's eyes snapped up; "Captain, the Coronado is hailing us."
"Put them onscreen," Drake responds.
"Mister Drake, what exactly are you doing?"
Captain Drake, Tochi managed not to sneer aloud, his smirk relegating itself back to a grimace as Jacobs' image resolved on the viewscreen. He forced himself to scrutinize the various displays on his console, head down, so the expression might go unnoticed. "You have not only failed to secure the rendezvous zone, but you have also allowed harm to come to my ship!"
"Sir, our sensors indicate that your damage came from an internal explosion, not from an attack," Drake remonstrated, "And we were hardly prepared to deal with a cloaked vessel here,"
"Clearly," Jacobs interrupted, "you should have been so prepared, Commander. And, now, this entire summit is about to devolve into a bloodbath! What is your plan of action?"
"Sir," Silas responded following a slow intake of breath that Tochi was sure altered the air pressure on the bridge, "we are en route to the last known position of the attacking vessel and will deal with her when she decloaks. Given the damage you've suffered perhaps you should withdraw to a safer location until the threat is dealt with."
The derisive tone in the chuckle Jacobs offers, then, is enough to snatch Lt Zai's gaze away from his console and level a decidedly unpleasant glare at the viewer. The Trill's mouth even opens as if to interject, at that point, but, just as quickly, closes again - though not before muttering something rather venomous, if indecipherable, under his breath.
"Hardly," the pompous CO of the Coronado rebukes Captain Drake, " Leave alone the fact that I will not turn tail and flee from the likes of these, where would you have me go?..."
"Straight up your own frillin' ch'ola," Tochi grumbled softly, deigning to lift an eye to the viewer, "sir."
",Into the asteroid field and further ambush? To a space station of unknown allegiance? No. We will stay where we are. Form up on us and protect this vessel. Prepare for an attack run against the Kuldarian forces."
"An attack run?!" Zai could no longer affect undue attention to his console and chorused Drake's words (albeit with less restraint than his commanding officer had managed) as his disbelieving gaze snapped to the viewscreen.
",sir," Silas was already protesting, freeing Tochi to chew on his tongue, once more, "we have excellent reason to believe that the Kuldar are not behind this attack! If we fire on their vessels, it will be a clear act of war."
"Mister Drake," Jacobs growled in return, "don't be an idiot,"
It was all Tochi could do, then, to keep from bolting out of his seat and confronting the Coronado's captain, himself, in defense of his own CO and friend. Somehow, he managed, though his jaw and shoulders had set themselves noticeably tighter to those who might have noticed.
",A Kuldarian vessel has attacked two other ships, to say nothing of the damage we have sustained. Federation lives have been lost, the initial act of war has already been committed. You have your orders, show some respect to the uniform and follow them. Jacobs out."
With that, the connection was cut, and the view returned to the situation outside. Tochi doesn't bother glancing up as, in that instant, the TAC mirror on his console lights up due to some new data funneled through by Asovil's science console. Still leveling curses at the arrogant Jacobs under his breath, Lt Zai watches the stream of data, trying to make sense of it as it relates to maneuvering the ship and, as he extrapolates what he sees, keys in course corrections for two possible scenarios.
"Captain," Asovil offers after an instant, "I believe I have the Stormspike, sir. There's an absence of dark matter at the coordinates I've just shared with Tactical. It has roughly the same displacement factor as the Stormspike's dimensions. There's a forty-eight percent likelihood that my readings are the enemy vessel, sir. According to the computer, that is."
"We have course corrections for those coordinates already laid in, Captain," Lt Zai adds, his gaze pausing only for the briefest of instants of the Andorian CSO as his head turns to regard Silas, "Should we proceed with intercept?" He arched a quizzical brow as his eyes met Drake's, then, and he considered his words for a moment, "Or would you rather we form up on the Coronado per Captain Jacobs' orders?"
Silas had less than a breath to have formed a reply but, despite that negligible span of time, Tochi felt it more than enough to interject and offer his own opinion as Drake's Executive officer. "For what it's worth, sir; we believe an assault run against the Kuldaran forces is ill-advised at this point, especially if we might intercept and disable the Stormspike and, thereby, with luck, reinforce any evidence that this is not a coordinated Kuldaran ambush,"
"I assure you, Lieutenant, that it is not," D'Lar offered emphatically, "The Stormspike, as far as any of my people are aware, has been missing and a derelict for generations. If we were to have planned an insurrection such as this, we would have brought more capable ships!"
Lt Zai's gazed skipped from the Kuldaran Ambassador and back to Silas once more, the expression on the Trill's face echoing one that might have appeared on Kasru Zai's when she undoubtedly believed what she was hearing to be true. "We follow your orders, Captain Drake," Tochi said, then, "not Jacobs'. Tell me where to be, sir,"
((OOC: Not the best, but enough to keep us moving, I hope. Tochi's far more willing to put his faith in Asovil's data and Silas' command than he is in blindly following Jacobs' orders (despite what might have transpired with Crane at the Captain's Mast). If Drake says to engage the Stormspike at Lt Sh'iraolnas' coordinates, consider us halfway there already. If, instead, he says to form up on the Coronado, the Trill will (mildly) begrudgingly comply, I think it's pretty obvious which way Tochi's inclined to go, however.))
Posted on 2017-05-01 at 15:43:58.
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Topic: Star Trek: the Edge of Duty Q&A
Subject: Busy weekend...
...got a post started but not yet finished. Should have it done in the next couple of hours if work continues to be as sleepy as it is, now.
Posted on 2017-05-01 at 08:02:33.
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