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Topic: The 1000 Posters Club
Subject: Narf!
You crack me up, Kohai... have an applaud for "sheer determination'. 
Posted on 2008-04-15 at 20:05:37.
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Topic: The 1000 Posters Club
Subject: LOL
No way, Lysk... we keep them in place just because we want to see you on a regular basis.
Anyway, there is no serious consideration being given to doing away with the posting games forum (none that I'm aware of, anyway) because they are fun and, IMHO, a good way to "pass time" and "hang out" when your creativity has been sapped to the point where you can't come up with posts for RPs that you may be involved in... I know I've come up with little nuggets of inspiration for some of my in game posts from something I've seen in the "fluffier areas" of our beloved Inn... so far be it from me to say; "Posting games are useless, inappropriate, a waste of time, and should be deleted." My point was that, in the end, post counts don't really matter, just like positive vs negative karma doesn't matter (at the Inn, of course, not where the 'Universe' is concerned)... what really matters, when it's all boiled down is that each and every Innmate finds some enjoyment here and keeps coming back for whatever it is that draws them in... That way we can monitor you and make sure that our brainwashing techniques are effective and, when the time is right, we unleash you all on the unsuspecting masses and remake the earth in our own twisted image. 
Oh...wait... errr... uuhhh... I mean... We just want you to have fun... yeah... that's it... fun! *waves a hand* Pay no attention to the man behind the Eol... you never saw me... I wasn't here... in fact, I'm a figment of my own imagination so, if you tell, I'll just stop thinking about myself and you can't blame anyone.
>bloop< End pointless randomosity....
Posted on 2008-04-15 at 19:53:08.
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Topic: The 1000 Posters Club
Subject: Well...
...at the risk of this sounding a lot like a "Summon Smite" spell, I have to agree with the "Original Palassassin" on this one.
While those threads can be fun and do encourage active posting (sort of) what usually ends up happening is that you get quantity as opposed to quality and uber-high post counts for basically nothing. *shrug*
Not that there's anything wrong with that, mind you, and not that I really care if JoeBlowOrcHammer has a higher post count than I do but, if your post count got to those "insanely high levels" by posting "fluff" on a site "dedicated to RP and gaming" do you really have something to brag about?
Again, just to clarify, I personally think those threads are fun for the most part (and I even participate from time to time) and don't care if they get deleted or not (why spoil the fun for others just cuz it's not "your thing," right?). Just thinking out loud, so to speak.
Game on, Innmates... in whatever fashion suits you! The bottom line is that we're all here to have fun and enjoy the "community" and, if that's what you're getting out of the Inn, then we're happy campers.
Blah,blah,blah... you know I'm "officially back" when I start to run of at the mouth, no?
CONGRATS to all of you 1000+ posters!
Posted on 2008-04-15 at 19:23:48.
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Topic: The Tides of Fate Q&A
Subject: Up to you, jefe!
I'll continue on with Caise if the rest are interested. 
Posted on 2008-04-15 at 14:35:56.
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Topic: Continuing Where We Last Left Off
Subject: Okay... here we go...
((OOC: Going back just a little...))
Render him senseless? From the depths of his cowl, Jal blinked in disbelief as Arien recommended sparing the Green. The urchin-mage wasn’t opposed to mercy where it was warranted but this was an Imperial Green! In his experience (limited as it was) Jal knew that any quarter given to one of their numbers, any hint of mercy, would undoubtedly be manipulated and exploited and turned back on the granter. Only dead is senseless enough for these.
Even more surprising was how long the debate over the Green’s fate had gone on… Jal found himself becoming quite anxious, his gaze flicking between his companions, the kneeling Green, and the staircase ahead… Maybe it had been Wynter trying to guide him, voicelessly and without so much as a phantom whiff of her hair, maybe it was the sense of sheer magical power that was promised at the top of the tower… something called him upwards. “Kill him and be done with it,” the odd little mage had wanted to say, “The longer we linger here, the more difficult the path ahead will become, I fear.”
Wanted to say. Only the words ‘kill him’ (and perhaps not even that much) escaped his lips before the Green made his move. In the blink of an eye, just before Maximus’ blade would have swung in to claim his head, the Imperial had sprung upwards and, in what could have proven a fatal blow, smashed the former gladiator’s nose to a pulp. Had it not been for Dapple’s intervention, Maximus would certainly have been killed by the blow rather than injured as he was. Jal had managed to skitter back a few steps as this occurred and blinked in mild confusion as the events unfolded. Before his mind could register what had just transpired, though, an even more befuddling onslaught commenced…
In what seemed like less time than it took to blink an eye, the entire place surged with mana. The smell of ozone tanged the air as a lightning bolt struck in their midst; the Green who had sought to free himself by feigning defeat found himself shuffled free of the mortal coil from that strike, and Dapple, too, was lifted from his feet and tossed like a mealsack across the room. Sir Thedell, it seemed, had burst into flames at that precise moment, as well - And, yet, somehow, there he stands, as if the fire had never been! the spellbinder marveled as the column of flame vanished, How can that be, my love? Even the Master, with all of his power, burned when called to…
“Adrian? Is that you?”
Still dumbfounded by the speed at which things had just unfolded, Jal turned instinctively to face the female voice that had just addressed his counterpart and saw the two women appear in the doorway; both wearing the red uniform of the Imperial magic corp. The white-haired woman wore holy symbol of some kind and had an intense look of anger etched into her features. The black haired sorceress, though – and this was the one who had called to Adrien - exhibited a bewildered, vacant expression.
“I said kill the mages,” the white haired witch shrieked, “Now!” the white one cries out. Then both women disappeared again.
“Wind…” Jal faintly heard Valentine mutter before the two Reds vanished and, a scant heartbeat later, the hells opened up again. Even before Arien called for it, Jal was scouring his memory for any spells that might help to reveal the invisibility shrouded Reds, but, between the shouting of the others, the wonderment at Adrian being called by name by one of the sorceresses, and the sudden, frenetic bustle of activity brought on by their arrival, he was finding the cob-webs entirely too thick to retrieve the proper incantations… and, also – even more distracting than the rest - he was sure he had just heard Wynter’s voice whisper in his ear… felt the phantasmal girl drawing nearer, returning to him at last from wherever it was she had been. He couldn’t help but allow his ice-hued eyes to scan the place in hopes of catching a glimpse of her.
When he turned his head, Jal had almost expected to see her – the honey-wheat waves of her hair spiraling behind her as she danced across the remembered grain fields of her home, making her way happily towards the young, misguided sorcerer’s apprentice who, for some reason, made excuses to see her every time his horrid master sent him to the small village – instead, he saw Arien forcibly lifted from his feet and launched with phenomenal power across the room and through the wall. An instant later, the ragged hole widened by the knight’s violent departure creaked under the strain of trying to support the structure above; dust and rubble shook loose and, then, the entire tower seemed to shudder before beginning its collapse.
‘Your redemption is at hand, beloved,’ he thought he heard Wynter coo into his ear as the staircase ripped free of the tower and crashed down before him. His head cocked to one side as if straining to hear her voice over the cacophony of the crumbling tower and the shouts of his retreating companions.
“Wynter,” he smiled faintly, certain that he was hearing her voice, “It is now, then? You and I… we’ll be together?”
‘Soon, very soon… a dance in the grass and perhaps a kiss, my Spellbinder… but first, see to your friends… see to the roof… See! The Roof!!!
His eyes lifted skyward and he almost smiled as he saw the chunks of stone, plaster, and timber raining down towards him. The spell for this would be simple enough and practical enough to provide the rest an exit from the place and, when it was done, Wynter would be waiting to welcome him. Jal’s slender fingers danced in the air as his lips formed the incantation, the mana rippled through him and as he thrust his staff above his head, he felt the featherfall spell breathe forward and take hold of the toppling debris. The casting of the spell, though, had chased Wynter’s voice from his ears and, without her calming demeanor –her focused guidance – Jal became suddenly aware of how taxed his mana reserves had become and felt that he wouldn’t be able to hold the spell for very long.
The sooner the better, he thought until he realized that several of his companions had yet to evacuate the ruined tower. Upon catching glimpses of Adrian and Maximus in the periphery of his vision, however, Jal forced himself to pour even more concentration into his maintenance of the spell… “Run,” he shouted to those he had come to consider friends, urgency and the strain of maintaining his concentration melding in his voice, “Get out while you can! I can’t hold this for long!”
He heard Wynter again, just then, and, it seemed, felt her standing there with him, though he still couldn’t see her. Her voice, too, though it seemed to be shouting, wouldn’t resolve itself into anything he could make out; the deafening rumble of the falling tower, the shouts of people from within and without, and the intense concentration he was forced to bear out had drown out all else. This is a good death, he told himself, not looking forward to the crushing weight that would signal the end of his time on this plane, but knowing that he would move on to the next having atoned for the evils that he had done both as a tool of his Master and, in some sad cases, of his own volition. Soon, Wynter, my love, he managed to think over his efforts, very soo…
“OOOoooff!” He suddenly found himself lifted from the ground and slung unceremoniously over Maximus’ shoulder. Wynter’s voice and his grasp on the featherfall spell both wavered…
“Concentrate on the spell,” he heard the gladiator say as his muscular legs pistoned them towards an escape, “I will get us out of here!”
“No! She was right there,” Jal screamed after failing to snatch hold of the interrupted spell, again, “Right there! I was with her!” His outstretched hands gave the appearance that the urchin-mage still sought purchase on the threads of his collapsing spell but, had anyone else seen through his eyes, he was reaching for were he knew Wynter must be. “Damn it, she was there! I heard her! I felt her! Wyyyynterrrrrrr!!!”
The Spellbinder’s misery was complete even before Maximus’s rescue sent them sprawling just clear of the crumbling tower and, even before whatever magic it was that had reduced the toppling ruin to dust, his eyes were stinging and wet with tears. He was almost grateful for the blinding effect of the exploding tower so that his free expression of sorrow might be masked or at least explained away by the dust and dirt that collected in his eyes. “No,” he wept almost breathlessly as he stuggled free of Maximus and tried to gain his footing. His eyes flicked to the gladiator, first, and he knew he should offer some thanks to the big man for saving his life but all the odd little mage could manage was: “You should have left me…”
Coughing a little as he wiped his eyes with the tattered hem of his cloak, Jal scowled and surveyed the scene around him now. The remains of the tower separated himself and the rest of the party from Arien. The noble knight was currently engaged in combat with some sort of abomination of a man who had one distorted, green-scaled arm and, by the looks of things, Arien could use some assistance and, in the swirling cloud of dust and debris that roiled in the space where the tower once stood, hovered what could only have been Arien’s twin sister… at least, she looked as if she must have been the knight’s twin, the uniform of an Imperial Red, though, cast some doubt upon that.
“To Arien!” Char’s voice called.
Jal tore his gaze from the levitating Red (and the incredible effect of the dust formed dragon that shrouded her) for a moment and caught sight of the ranger charging off towards the northside of the tower to aid the knight. His eyes, for an instant, ticked back to where Alloryn floated above, then returned to Char and the rest… it would take the fighters precious time to navigate the ruble and debris that blockaded them from the knight’s battle and, with a Red mage taking the highground, so to speak, it was precious time of just such a length that could ensure all of their deaths. “Aye,” Jal sighed almost exhaustedly, “steel to the steel and mana to the mana. So it goes…”
((OOC: Okay, I suppose that’s enough for now. If possible, Jal will attempt to cast a jump spell on one or two of the fighter-types, hopefully giving them a ‘short-cut’ when it comes to getting past the rubble and, following that (and at the risk of possibly subjecting himself to Wizard’s Twilight) will cast Fly on himself and make for Alloryn – not 100% sure what he might do when/if he manages to get there but it seems like the thing to do…*shrug*))
Posted on 2008-04-14 at 19:32:37.
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Topic: Continuing Where We Last Left Off Q&A
Subject: Spooky will be posting today...
... though, like I told Al, I almost hate to ruin that beautiful death scene that was waiting in the wings... crushed by a tower, what a spectacular end.
As it stands, though, Maximus has hauled Spooky's pale arse out of harms way and, in the process, interrupted Wynter's voice... and hey, there's a girl up there just bathed in that oddly powerful green glow that I remember from the briefing at Dwan's... hmmmmm..... 
Thanks for waiting me out, folks. I hope this post helps to make up. 
Posted on 2008-04-14 at 16:10:58.
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Topic: Voyages of the Rocinante - Firefly RPG QnA
Subject: Was that...
Get schoolmarm
Do schoolmarm
Get something to eat
Repeat?
Hell-fire, boss! Count me in!
Posted on 2008-04-14 at 15:39:52.
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Topic: Voyages of Rocinante - Serenity/Firefly RPG
Subject: A fella can't stay shaddap ferever.
School Daze/ Hot for Teacher
Following the altercation and ruckus-free resolution of the situation back at the corral, Dash had seen fit to stay a little more on the paranoid side as the crew, with their new wrench turner in tow, continued on toward the schoolhouse. He engaged in some ‘long-time-no-see-how-ya-been’ banter with Wolf as they made their way through the town, playing catch-up with his old friend and warily scanning the more shadowed nooks and crnnies between the buildings that could provide a nice hidey hole for would be bushwackers. It was probably a good thing that he had the two things to occupy his mind, too, because between the twitchy and the ‘remember whens’ Sam had completely put it out of his mind that he was meandering towards a schoolhouse of all things.
The pilot had gone out of his way to avoid getting to close to any schoolhouses since that day during the war when he realized that the “Browncoat Hideouts” that he’d dropped a bomb bay full of ordnance on weren’t hideouts at all, but schools and churches and family homesteads. The very thought of the pain and suffering he had inflicted on innocents in the course of following orders and making the Verse a better place twisted in his gut like a rusted knife everytime he passed such a place.
“…so the guy at the end of the bar, flat stunned by what he just seen that gorilla do, says, ‘I’ll give it a try, but you don’t gotta hit me so hard,” Sam chortled, delivering the punchline to a rather crude joke as he nudged Wolf with an elbow. The joke was pretty disgusting, Sam had to admit, but it set him cackling like a hen every time he heard or told it and this time was no exception… the only difference was that, when Dash’s eyes fell upon the school house, his laughter died a sudden death as he swallowed the lump in his throat and his pace faltered for half a heartbeat.
“Ai yah tien ah (merciless Hell),” Sam muttered, maybe not as under his breath as he had hoped, “had ta be a gorram schoolhouse, din’it?” He sucked in a deep breath to steady himself and tried to talk his gut out of emptying right there on the dusty street, then, releasing that breath in a disbelieving sigh, fell back into step with the rest of the group.
As they got to the building, Dash somewhat reluctantly peered through one of the windows. The overall scene inside did little to help his guilty gut, at first - room full o’ kids an’ their schoolmarm ain’t ‘zactly breezy meadows when ya conjure how many of ‘em’s gonna be waitin’ fer ya in hell, is it? – but something about the schoolmarm herself helped to tweak Dash’s thoughts back towards a more distracted state before long and, despite the pangs of guilt and self-loathing that rippled through him, once corner of the pilot’s mouth started to curl up into an almost lusty grin.
“Bes’ behavior,” he heard Wyatt mutter as the captain ambled past and made for the door.
“Duhn ruhn,(of course)” Dash nodded, halfheartedly trying to tear his eyes away from the scrumptious schoolmarm, “This’s me yer talkin’ to, Cap; mei wen ti (no problem).” Wyatt was already at the door by the time Dash had managed to wrestle the promises out of his lusty heart, though, and Rocinante’s scruffy pilot was still trying to convince himself that ‘best behavior’ would be a do-able thing. “Mmmmm- mmm, but ain’t she an angel,” he purred, straightening his bandana and hitching up his britches as he stole one last peek at Bridget through the window before following the others into the schoolhouse, “I’d love ta show her my bes’ behavior, though, puhn yoh, an’ that’s the ruttin’ truth of it.”
Dash stepped through the door, taking his usual position just behind Wyatt and off to the left a piece. His whiskey colored eyes skimmed almost sadly over the roomful of youngsters but fixed quickly on Bridget, the flash of melancholy sparking into something of more smouldering nature, as the Cap made introductions.
“Name’s Wyatt Sung, and I was told you and I needed to talk. This here,” the Cap motioned loosely with his right hand to those who followed him, “are my crew: Ms. Willow Takahara, Mr. Sam Dash…”
The words “I c’n lick my own eyebrow,” threatened to spill past Dash’s lips, “an’ anythin’ else ya might cotton ta have tongued.” With Wyatt’s warning still fresh in his mind, though, and what with the man standing within head smacking reach, Dash simply nodded, his eyes locked on the schoolmarm; “Ma’am.”
“…and Mr…Wolf. If you’ve the time, we’d be mighty obliged to you.”
Yeah, an’ if ya’d skin outta that dress, I’d be more’n that.
Dash only truly heard bits and pieces of the rest of the conversation that followed and even muttered something to the effect of “with spectacles like that, I’m s’prised the kid can’t see what color bloomers Wil’s wearin’” when the young boy commented on Wyatt’s pistol. Beyond that – and perhaps the suggestive lift of any eyebrow at the schoolmarm’s comment about pointing at a man’s equipment – Dash was too all-fired wrapped up in watching Bridget’s lips move to pay any mind to the words they might’ve been making.
Other than a brief flash of memory – women and children, framed grainily in the bombcamera display of his Arclight bomber, as they ran screaming from the church his payload had just been dumped on – Sam was all but oblivious to anyone else in the place but Bridget and, whatever the woman was saying sounded like nothing but truth and choirs of angels where he was concerned. When the woman suggested that they return to the ship and wait for Bailey’s men as she made arrangements for the transfer of credits for the job, Sam was tempted to offer her an escort and let Wyatt and the rest get back to Roc without him. Before he could suggest it, though, he found himself backing out of the schoolhouse in the wake of Wyatt, Willow, and Wolf – his gaze loathe to break away from Bridget and a mi tian gohn eatin’ grin permanently fixed to his lips – as the schoolmarm sauntered off in her own direction.
“Ta mah duh, but I need some looser pants,” Dash groaned as Bridget faded from sight and he finally turned on his heel and broke out into a jog to catch up with the others, “or an hour or so wit’ her, one.”
“…I think we need to do as Miss Willow says and not trust her too far,” Wolf was saying when Dash caught up, “Sorry I can’t help ya more Cap’n but I never got close enough to her know her that well.”
“That’s cuz yer big, bald, an’ ugly as a mud-fence, Wolf,” Dash chided, nudging the big mechanic with an elbow as he fell into step with the rest of the crew. “B’sides, she’s been keepin’ herself fer me, anyhoo…”
“But I like gossip and rumours, Mr. Wolf!” Willow interjected playfully, though her meaning was serious. “Is Brigit from here or somewhere else? Has she always been JW’s woman, or did she work her way up the food chain? Details, my dear, details!”
Dash hooked his thumbs over his gunbelt at that point and cast a disbelieving glance from face-to-face of his crewmates. “Y’know,” he chuffed, “I conjured I were s’posed ta be th’ twitchy one ‘round here… There ain’t a damn thing wrong wit’ that woman as I c’n see…” The pilot’s footsteps faltered suddenly, again, as the distrusting conversation sparked an idea (or an excuse, depending on how one might’ve seen it), “…If’n yer all that bunched up ‘bout it, though, I reckon I’d be a’right wit’ escortin’ Miss Bridget so as ta make sure she don’t go humpin’ things up fer us.
What say, Cap? Want me ta go put an’ eyeball on ‘er?”
((OOC: Yeah, Dash’s got the full-blown hot-damns for the schoolmarm and, if no one objects too awful hard, he could be just liable to go scootin’ off to catch up with her and… er… “help her out” ))
Posted on 2008-04-12 at 14:03:13.
Edited on 2008-04-12 at 18:27:03 by Vanadia
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Topic: GASP! Is that Eol?
Subject: Yeah, really!
Here I stand with a wagon load of mardi gras beads and all I get is a 'dignified wave'?
Guess that's probably all I deserve...
Posted on 2008-04-11 at 19:35:58.
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Topic: GASP! Is that Eol?
Subject: You's guys...
...are too much!
Thanks for the warm welcome homes... those of you who know me well, of course, know that floggings and hugs are both one in the same where I'm concerned, right? I'll take whatever is being dished out.
For those of you who are awaiting 'loooooooong overdue posts' from me: Fear not, I shall be endeavoring to get updates out there by this weekend. When the posts turn out to be novel-length, though, remember that you asked for it.
Now, for a trick I learned watching those god-awful Fantastic 4 movies.... *stretches his arms until they are long enough to wrap around every last innmate and squeeeeeeeezes*... I  LOVE you all and am more than thrilled to be back.
Posted on 2008-04-10 at 19:27:35.
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Topic: GASP! Is that Eol?
Subject: GASP! Is that Eol?
Free! I'm freeeeeeeeeee! I knew there was a light at the end of the tunnel but, when I went looking for it, I kept running into trains coming the other way!
Sooooo, my dearly beloved and sorely missed innmates, I have finally managed to find my way out of the darkness and back into the Inn. First off, my sincere apologies for the 'vanishing act' (lots of explanations there and I'll be happy to share but you'll need lots and lots of caffeine to survive it), it wasn't my intent to be away for as long as I was. Secondly, it looks as if I've finally gotten things on the way to settled here at the "new job" and have managed to skirt the ungodly net restrictions they've got in place, so, I should once again start showing up on a "Geez-o-lou does Eol ever sign off?" basis in the very near future. I'm still getting my behind handed to me on a daily basis by the job, of course, but have managed to carve out a few minutes of free time from my days here in the past week, sooooooo.... I'm BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!
I hope to catch up with all of you very soon... if you'll still have me of course.
Gods I've missed this place...*weeps*...it's so good to be home!
Posted on 2008-04-10 at 15:40:04.
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Topic: Star Trek: Operation:Persephone - Q&A
Subject: Interesting!
I'm in the midst of composing a few different posts and, as I was whipping one up for the Charon's CEO, I referenced Memory Alpha and just happened to stumble upon an entry for a new Star Trek flick that's slated to release in December '08. Apparently, the new film (titled simply "Star Trek"), will focus on the "early days" of the original series crew (Kirk, Spock, etc)... not much of the plot has been revealed in any place I've looked, of course, but I did manage to find some "comfirmed" casting notes... Some of the cchoices are very interesting, me thinks...
Cast:
- Chris Pine (Smokin’ Aces, Just My Luck) - Kirk
- Zacahry Quinto (Heroes) – Spock (Leonard nimoy, will be making an appearance as Spock, as well, I guess... Time line jumping in the film, maybe?)
- Anton Yelchin – Chekov
- Zoe Saldana – Uhura
- Eric Bana – “Nero” (A Romulan and, apparently, “the big villain” in this film)
- Simon Pegg (Shaun of the Dead, Hot Fuzz) – Scotty
- John Cho – Sulu
- Karl Urban – Dr McCoy
- Bruce Greenwood – Capt Christopher Pike
- Winona Ryder – Amanda Grayson (Spock’s mother)
- Jennifer Morrison – Kirk’s mother
- Chris Hemsworth – George Kirk Sr (Kirk’s father)
- Clifton Collins Jr - Ayel (“cohort and general to Nero”)
- Rachel Nichols – unnamed Orion (maybe Kirk's "first foray with a green chick?" )
- Ben Cross – Sarek (Spock’s father)
Ah well... enough "ohhhh, ahhhh, a new movie" jabber... back to post making.
Posted on 2007-12-20 at 17:34:40.
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Topic: Two truths and a lie
Subject: Ooooh... tuff one
I'm going to go with #2 being the lie, there, Big Al.
Not hard to believe that you've never seen an episode of Seinfeld... The new BG lost me somewhere around that same point, as well, so I can maybe find truth in that one... And I secretly wanted to be Col Steve Austin when I was a wee-pooper, myself, so I can see enjoying old episodes of The Six Million Dollar Man, but Knightrider?!?! Gotta be a lie.
Posted on 2007-12-19 at 16:40:23.
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Topic: Two truths and a lie
Subject: Ding-ding-ding!
Good job, Gruggles, m'boy!
#1 is the lie... I have been stabbed, I have been hit by a car, and I have been shot at but I've never actually "taken a bullet" (rocksalt in the buttcheek once, and, of course, been pelted by BBs and such, but that doesn't really count )
Posted on 2007-12-19 at 16:10:49.
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Topic: Two truths and a lie
Subject: One good bzzt deserves another...
Wow! I figured that down south everyone learned to swim before that... that's what I get for figuring.
Anyhoo, #2 is not my lie... I do live in Ohio, but when I talk about "home" I'm usually referring to the Adirondacks.
Anyone else care to take a whack? 50-50 shot.
Posted on 2007-12-19 at 15:16:35.
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Topic: Star Trek: Operation:Persephone - Q&A
Subject: *Beams back in*
Sorry for the absence, folks. Real life reared it's ugly head and I had to put it in a headlock and run it around the block a few times. Working furiously on posts to catch us up and move us ahead a bit. have something up by tonight with a little bit of luck. 
Posted on 2007-12-19 at 15:13:26.
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Topic: Two truths and a lie
Subject: Spiffy...
I'm going to go with my gut and say that you actually did learn to swim before you were 11, boss... #1 is your lie, there.
Let's see what I can come up with, eh?
#1... I have, at different points in my life, been shot, stabbed, and hit by a car
#2... I claim upstate New York as 'home' but was actually born in South Dakota
#3... When I first learned to talk, I spoke with a British accent and that accent stuck with me until I was 6.
Posted on 2007-12-19 at 15:10:38.
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Topic: Star Trek: Operation:Persephone - Q&A
Subject: A bit of both, I think...
"Dress" Uniforms for MACO personnel would probably be identical to any other SF uniform. In the case of Cerberus and Charon, that would be the "Duty Uniforms" referred to earlier in this thread with a green undershirt (as opposed to red for Command, blue For Science, gold for TAC/SEC, ENG, and OPS, etc)...
...oooor... there's also the option of the SOB's (Special Operations Blacks) variant of the uniform. In MACO's case, this would be an all black uniform with a green band across the chest. (See the original Uniforms posting earlier in the thread for a link).
However, I do rather like the idea of "fatigues", "BDUs", or whatever you want to call them (especially for the grunts) and will allow our Jarheads to wear something along the lines of the unis depicted here. They're more or less the uniforms worn by MACO personnel in the Enterprise Series, I think, but, IMO, very cool and (possibly with a minor modification here and there to bring them 'up to date') could very well be brought into the RDInn version of the Trek Universe.
Posted on 2007-12-14 at 19:53:19.
Edited on 2007-12-14 at 20:28:48 by Eol Fefalas
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Topic: Star Trek: Operation:Persephone - Q&A
Subject: Not invited???
Which post did you read? 
Mac specifically told Weatherly to invite the Romulans (he doesn't like 'em, but he has learned to be 'somewhat more gracious' since his days on the Discovery. )
As far as dress code for the dinner goes: Formal dress would likely be protocol for functions such as this one - and likely what Weatherly would submit in the invite. Mac, however, isn't that particular... Wouldn't surprise me if the Captain showed up in his duty uniform.
Posted on 2007-12-14 at 14:11:45.
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Topic: Star Trek: Operation:Persephone - Q&A
Subject: Romulans and Vulcans Geek-a-thon
Origins
Some theorize that both Vulcans and Romulans are descendants of Sargon's people, who possibly colonized Vulcan some six million years ago. (TOS: "Return to Tomorrow") This theory, however, was later contradicted by the discovery of ancient humanoid progenitors. (TNG: "The Chase")
When Surak's reforms of embracing logical principles and rejecting emotions spread rapidly across Vulcan in the 4th century, a minority rejected Surak's ideals. They departed Vulcan in the 4th century; later, some of their descendants established settlements on the planets Calder II, Dessica II, Draken IV, Yadalla Prime and Barradas III, which might have become a center of this new offshoot civilization, called the Debrune, which later died out. (TNG: "Gambit, Part I")
At some point, another group settled on twin planets that became known as Romulus and Remus. While Romulus was an class M planet, Remus was a harsh planet notable only for its dilithium deposits. These two worlds were the foundation of an interstellar empire that expanded to many worlds, reaching across much of the Beta Quadrant. Eventually that power came to be known as the Romulan Star Empire. (TNG: "Gambit, Part I", "Gambit, Part II"; Star Trek Nemesis)
Physiology
Like Vulcans, Romulans have pointed ears, eyebrows that are arched and upswept, and copper-based blood that is green when oxygenated in the arteries, or copper or rust-colored when deoxygenated in the veins. (Star Trek Generations) Most Romulans have two brow ridges above the bridge of their nose, forming a V-shape on the forehead. However, a minority of Romulans lack these ridges, making them outwardly indistinguishable from Vulcans.
These "browless" Romulans appear to be confined to the 23rd century, from Mark Lenard's Romulan Commander in 2266 ("Balance of Terror") through Ambassador Nanclus in 2293 (Star Trek VI: The Undiscovered Country).
Despite their common ancestry there are also many subtle internal physiological differences between Vulcans and Romulans. This is evidenced in Dr. Beverly Crusher's failed attempt to treat a Romulan, Patahk, who had suffered advanced synaptic breakdown, with the methods used to treat Vulcans. (TNG: "The Enemy")
Romulans lack the rigorous mental disciplines developed by the followers of Surak. They are a passionate people, easily moved to extreme emotions. (TOS: "The Enterprise Incident")
This lack of mental discipline would seem to explain why Romulans lack the telepathic abilities that Vulcans possess.
There have been numerous instances of Romulans successfully mating with other species, as evidenced in Sela (Human/Romulan), Ba'el (Klingon/Romulan), and the grandfather of Simon Tarses (Human/Romulan). General Korrd indicates in a conversation with Caithlin Dar that Romulan women may have a unique anatomical makeup, although such comments are never substantiated. Star Trek V: The Final Frontier
A reference to Saavik being half-Romulan and half-Vulcan was cut from the final edit of Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan. It was, however, mentioned in the novelization of Star Trek III: The Search for Spock.
While Vulcans possess much greater physical strength than most humanoids, it remains unknown if Romulans have superior strength to Humans.
The Terothka virus is a disease unique to Romulan physiology. Romulans are also susceptible to Tuvan Syndrome. (VOY: "Message in a Bottle"; DS9: "Inter Arma Enim Silent Leges")
See also Romulan History @ Memory-Alpha.
Posted on 2007-12-14 at 13:16:34.
Edited on 2007-12-14 at 14:42:44 by Eol Fefalas
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Topic: Star Trek: Cerberus Recruitment
Subject: Could be...
... I think all 6 of the Romulan slots have been filled by Players and/or NPCs, Ye Olde, but definitely check with DM and see if there might be something that could work out.
Posted on 2007-12-13 at 18:19:18.
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Topic: Olan's baby photobucket
Subject: Personally...
...I loved the commentary.
That's the kind of stuff you can torture kids with for YEARS.
Posted on 2007-12-13 at 15:31:12.
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Topic: Olan's baby photobucket
Subject: Adorable for sure...
...way adorable. Just makes ya wanna pick 'em up an' squeeze 'em.
Baby laughter is the best.
Posted on 2007-12-11 at 22:38:35.
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Topic: Return To Zork
Subject: Holy crap! It's ZORK!
Examine message container
((Had to give you an applaud for this one, Dev... ahhhh Old Memories! :BGB)
Posted on 2007-12-11 at 20:25:48.
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Topic: Star Trek: Operation Persephone
Subject: Calmin' th' Kzinti?
USS Cerberus – Deck 1, Captain’s Ready Room – 1042 hours
(some very minor liberties taken, here)
Weatherly was gone when Jack emerged from the head dressed in his first set of Command Reds. Grand, he chuffed, tugging at the hem of his jacket and, once more, straightening the pips affixed to his collar, Le’s ‘ope tha’ wee chat go’ th’ lass occupied wi’ more’n runnin’ up me bum.
Keep ‘er occupied an’ yer days’ll be all th’ more peaceful, Jack-lad, he told himself as he retrieved the empty teacup from his desk and returned it to the replicator, At least long enough fer me ta figger ‘ow we’re gonna manage all o’ this…
The admission chime sounded before Mac could get to his desk. Likely th’ Rug, he thought, glancing at the time and reclaiming his coffee cup before responding to the electronic tone. “Enter,” he rumbled after having tipped a swallow from the mug. He was settling back into his chair as the big Kzinti stalked through the door.
“Reporting as ordered, Captain,” Rrowl snarled as the hatch closed behind him.
The Cerberus’ CO nodded fractionally; his gaze, for the time being, was intent on a display that was processing data on the Idran system – the location of the Bajoran Wormhole’s exit into the Gamma Quadrant. “Those fargin’ point-ears arrived much earlier than I was expectin’,” Mac said brusquely, not lifting his eyes from the console – there was no point in beating around the bush with Rrowl, he knew. If such a thing was possible, the Kzinti had even less tolerance than Jack himself did when it came to excuse making. “Ef I’d’ve ‘ad th’ foggiest notion tha’ they’d be comin’ abaird ere I’d ‘ad a chance ta brief ye, lad, be sure tha’ I’d no’ ‘ave scream-an’-leaped ye as I did.
‘ave a seat, Commander,” he said, finally tearing his gaze away from the desk-mounted display and regarding his TAC chief.
((assuming he does… any replies here))
MacTavish offered Rrowl another, short nod as the Kzinti lowered himself into one of the chairs. “Ef et ‘elps, Fleet scream-an’-leaped me wi’ et, themselves an’ I dinnae discover et until I’d a’ready come abaird. Th’ truth o’ th’ matter, Rrowl,” Jack continued, “is tha’, ‘ad I been made aware ahead o’ time, tha’ a Romulan delegation was ta be part an’ parcel o’ Cerberus’ maiden run, I’d likely’ve turned doon th’ offer ta command ‘er, colder’n th’ highlands en winter.
Ye an’ I share th’ same opinions on our vesitors from th’ RSE, Rrowl. Tha’ said, I’m no’ e’en goin’ ta bother askin’ whether ye’ve got ‘em squared away where yer department’s consairned.” Jack was sure that Rrowl had ensured that each member of the Romulan contingent would be closely (and, given availability of resources, redundantly) monitored for the duration of the tour. Most likely, arrangements had been made to have the Romulans’ communicators tagged with trackers and, if it hadn’t been done already, a dedicated terminal was being configured to keep a keen, unblinking eye on each one of them… there was no need to inquire about the details because, Jack knew, those details would be provided via daily reports from TAC/SEC and real-time streams from the protocols that were undoubtedly in place already.
((anything here))
“Whether we like et or no’, me friend,” Jack heaved a sigh as he leaned back in his chair and pinched at the bridge of his nose, as if the very thought of his next statement was enough to induce a headache, “th’ green-bloods’re wi’ us fer th’ duration o’ this bloody theng an’, considerin’ this so-called alliance we’ve forged wi’ ‘em as late, I s’pose tha’ means tha’ we’re ta treat ‘em as we would exchange officers an’ crew from a more trustwairthy lot… th’ Klingons, fer instance, er, per’aps, th’ Borg…
O’ course,” Mac continued, releasing the pressure point between his eyes, “tha’s no’ ta be interpreted as ‘trust ‘em,’ aye? Jus’ b’cause Fleet thinks tha’ their fargin’ cloaks’re gonna make a diff’rence in our traipsin’ safely through Dominion space dinnae mean tha’ I’ll be swallowin’ tha’ load o’ sheepshyte wi’oot a grand dose o’ honey ta take th’ taste off… from all I’ve ‘eard, th’ bastards’ve ways o’ detectin’ cloaked ships wi’ tetryon scans er sommat, anyway… so, ef e’en th’ most junior-rankin’ Rom makes a misstep, Rrowl, I wan’ ever’ bloody one of ‘em locked doon ‘til we’ve decided whether dumpin’ th’ entire lot of ‘em inta space is called fer er if we’d be wiser ta be more… ah… selective. Am I clear on tha’?”
((any reply… responses as necessary))
“Brilliant,” Mac reached for his coffee, again, and drained the mug before tapping out a quick sequence on his terminal, “I’ve jus’ sent ye th’ files on th’ Romulans – sairvice jackets, specs on their fargin’ cloaks, all tha’ sort. Review ‘em as ye see fit. I’ve given’ ‘em a look an’ ‘ave yet ta find any association wi’ the Tal Shiar but, considerin’ there ain’t been a point-ear tha’s ‘ad the bollocks ta venture inta the GQ since they go’ their arses ‘anded to ‘em a’ th’ Omaron Nebula, an’ th’ fact tha’ et was Tal Shiar tha’ ‘eaded up tha’ bloody mess, et would’nae s’prise me if there weren’t some sort o’ their dealin’s as part o’ all this. Disseminate tha’ information ta Intel an’ Security as ye deem appropriate, aye?”
((response?))
“A’right, then, Lt Commander Rrowl,” MacTavish said, “now tha’ I’ve unloaded tha’ bit o’ sunshine on yer fuzzy ‘ead, I’ve also decided tha’ designate ye as Cerberus’ 2O. Fleet’d recommended our Ops Chief fer this slot but, given tha’ I’ve lairned their recommendations get Romulan’s posted ta me boat an’ tha’ I’d trust TAC ta blow th’ ship ere some Nancy-pants monkey-boy from Ops would were it ta come ta tha’, et’s yers. Any questions, lad?”
((If so, speak ‘em… backposts as required… jumping ahead))
MacTavish extricated himself from his seat, then, and made his way around the desk as Rrowl followed suit. “I’m sure ye’ve go’ better ta do than shed on me chair an’ listen ta me fallin’ off a’ th’ gob,” he smirked, extending a hand to the monstrous Kzinti, “So I’ll let ye to it.”
He released the Kzinti’s massive paw and offered another nod as Rrowl turned to take his leave. “I appreciate yer restraint inna transpairter room, Rug,” Mac added, a hint of an amused tone evident in his voice, “I know tha’ could’nae’ve been easy fer ye. If ye feel et’s e’er gettin’ the better o’ ye, lemme know an’ we c’n wairk through those frustrations inna match er two…”
((Next up… The sci-guy, the doctor, and, finally, a post from Charon’s CEO…))
Posted on 2007-12-11 at 20:21:47.
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