...just wait until that furrball comes up in the next post.   

That was sweet! Bladesingin' Buddies! 

...I think Ch'dau might need craft services!

He's hungry enough that he might be tempted to eat an entire ghoul if it comes within reach.

Anyhoo... just a short post, there, waking old fuzz face up. You all feel free to run with it as you see fit.

Blearily, Ch’dau awoke to find himself face down on the filthy floor of his cell, confused, at first, as to where he was and, moreso, how he’d come to be there. Soon enough, though, memory chased away the haze of whatever fever-dreams he had been lost in and he growled. It was a weaker sound than any he could ever recalled having made, though, and, as he rolled over and sat himself up, he found that the weakness wasn’t only in his voice. With every movement, his muscles trembled and waves of cold shuddered through him, coaxing his fur to stand on end. He tried to stand but, at the moment, found he was unable to do so; instead, he dragged himself to the iron-barred door of his cage and propped himself shakily against it as he peered across the corridor and into Aranwen’s cell.

“Aranwen khatun,” he called, the grumbling of his long-empty stomach louder in his ears than his own voice, “What has happened? I… I do not recall what we last were speaking about… Has there been news…”

His eyes closed against his will and his head fell heavily against the bars of the cell door. His stomach growled again and he shivered against another wave of cold before he managed to find the strength to draw his knees closer to his chest and open his eyes.

“…How long have we been here?”

Looks as if Rer and I posted at the same time, hence I missed her last until just now.

Yeeeeeah. Those side effects ain't bad, all in all... Distracting as all get out but not bad in any form of the word.

As to "physically harmful" ------ I dunno! How many icy showers can one truly withstand without going hypothermic?

...I've got plenty of stuff I could submit in hopes of getting published but, for whatever reason, I don't. *shrugs*

I like writing for you guys better, anyway.

...I decided to forego the interaction with Eric this time around, in favor of simply getting a post up.

I figure the planned conversation could take place during or after the staff meeting, anyway.

Stardate 2365.02.22
U.S.S. Peregrine; Deck 1 - Bridge – 0735

Seated at the helm, Tochi occupied himself with the minutiae of keeping the Peregrine on course and efficient in her power usage. It wasn’t an arduous task on a patrol route such as this, of course, but, given the dreams he’d been having of late, he thought it wise to keep his attentions focused on the CONN as opposed to risking a glance in the direction of SCI-1 and having the sight of Asovil cause those dreamt images to chase into his conscious thoughts. As it was, at just the sound of her voice, he was having a difficult enough time, keeping those provocative thoughts at bay.

The anesthizine that Dr Reine had prescribed was certainly helping with his insomnia, of course, but the ‘side-effects’ that he believed it to be causing were another matter entirely. The first dream, in which he had relived Dirven’s memories of meeting and courting Talla, had been confusing and distracting enough what with him replacing Dirven and Asovil supplanting Talla. Last night’s reverie, though, hadn’t been quite as tame as an intended serenade turning into an impromptu concert on some Risian beach. The dreams were similar in that, once again, it had taken the form of one of Dirven’s memories of Talla; and, again, Tochi and Asovil had replaced the other pair. This time, however, there had been far less clothing than a silver bikini and a pair of torn swim trunks involved and much more physical contact than a cool blue hand on his chest and a tentative kiss on the cheek. Not at all an unpleasant side effect, of course, but, minus a distraction less mundane than a simple patrol route… well…

"What else awaits us today," Asovil’s voice carried to his ears from her post at the Science station.

Another cold shower for me, Tochi smirked inwardly, forcing himself not to look in the beautiful Andorian’s direction, if I can’t stop imagining you naked in my arms and your breath in my ear.

…“For frill’s sake,” the Trill muttered under his breath, shaking his head to chase away the visions he’d just called to mind. He forced his eyes to the nav-display on his console, then, hoping that the star charts would queue up thoughts of anything other than those he was considering at the moment. Some memory of old trade routes from Odia’s day, perhaps, or even some obscure bit of stellar cartography trivia from Isri’s. Anything but recollections of last night’s horribly wonderful dream.

We’ll try sleeping without the anesthizine, tonight, he decided as his fingers traced over the console and adjusted the Peregrine’s course ever so slightly, perhaps that will help.

Perhaps, Kasru’s voice interjected itself into his thoughts, you should just have dinner with her, boy. Could it be that these dreams have less to do with pharmaceuticals and more to do with you missing her company?

Tochi couldn’t help but glance in Asovil’s direction, then, and the sight of her invoked a flutter of longing in his heart and coaxed a soft smile to his lips. It had been some time since he’d had the opportunity to speak with her other than in passing or about things other than ship’s business. You may be right, he nodded, tearing his eyes away from the lovely CSO and forcing them back to his console, I’ll do just that… so long as nothing comes up to…

“Captain,” Lt Moriden’s call derailed Tochi’s thoughts, “I have a priority message from Starfleet Command.”

"Onscreen, please."

Zai’s gaze lifted to the viewscreen as the trail of warp-stretched stars were blinked away in favor of an image of Admiral Harding.

“Admiral Harding,” Drake acknowledged, “I hope that you are well.  What can we do for you?”

The Admiral frowned.  "Commander Drake, you recall the escape pod that you brought to Starbase 118?"

Silas nodded.  "Of course, Admiral.  What of it?"

Harding continued.  "Commander, that escape pod was picked up by the U.S.S. Serapis for study.  Five days ago, we lost all contact with the Serapis.  Four hours ago, we received a garbled distress signal from her."

There was a pause and, then, a clipped and static ridden audio clip played.

...containment failed... changes... loss of life... require aid... caution... HELP US...

“That’s all there is,” the Admiral noted as Tochi glanced back at the Captain, an expression of confusion and concern playing on his features.

"Commander Drake, the Peregrine is the closest option that we have.  I am sending you the last known coordinates of the Serapis.  You are to proceed there immediately to ascertain the situation and to deal with it appropriately.  Use extreme caution, as there is no telling what exactly happened.  If there are any survivors, you are to render aid."

Tochi’s eyes snapped back to his console, then, and, as soon as the coordinates were received, he keyed them into the helm.

“Of course, Admiral,” Silas answered even as Peregrine began to veer off onto its newly assigned course, “Do we know anything else?”

The Trill glanced up at the viewscreen just in time to see the odd look pass across Harding’s face. “No, Commander,” she said, “I can provide no further intel on the matter.  Conduct yourself with caution and keep us apprised.  Good luck, and Godspeed.  Harding out.”

The viewer went blank, then, and, behind him, Tochi heard Capt Drake retake his seat. “Tochi,” Drake ordered after a moment, “set a course for those coordinates, warp factor six.”

“Already done, sir,” the Trill responded, increasing the ship’s velocity as Drake engaged with Riva, “We are en route.”

Our Little Kitten is growing up to be a fine murder machine! *holds Ara close and looks pridefully at Bree* 

Definitely enjoyed! Sad at how things turned out for Tara and Castien, of course, but an excellent read nonetheless.

Intrigued to see what happens when/if Kithran finds out that it was Castien who killed Tara.

That last Little Kithran post was absolutely heartbreaking!!!  Well done, Bree!!!

I suppose. since work has finally decided to give me some small reprieve, I'll get back to working on my posts for Chimera and HC while I wait Kith's next. With any luck, I should be able to follow up pretty quickly.

...I  the Little Kithran and Past Aranwen posts!

Those are some of the best "surprises" that have come from this prequel jaunt of ours, IMO.

...before I get much further into my post. Have we heard from MagicMan re: Thorson, at all, or should I go ahead and NPC, at this particular point? Got a bit in mind where Tochi and Eric have a conversation regarding the pod and the Serapis but don't want to step on toes, so to speak.

I've got snippets from Gardner's dressing down and such that are written but not posted... Vaela and Gardner, Megan and Gardner, etc... Need to get my head back on it's swivel, it seems!

Not sure I'll get my post done, tonight, but should have it ready by morning if nothing else.

Well...

The longer Kith is tortured, the more Ch'dau is likely to just claw and bite EVERYTHING regardless of consequence sooooooo....

We're not gonna live though this anyway... let's make a bloody mess!

Anything I've got at this point would be a back post, anyway.

If you've got one ready, boss, post away. It'll just give me mor efuel for the fire... unless you don't want a long post from me.

I didn't even get to bite the hand that healed me!!!

Finally getting around to catching up on my posting.... Gonna take car of Chimera, first, but don't think I won't have something for this soon, too.

As expected, the wooden thing’s arms tore free of it’s body and clattered to the floor where he dropped them.Unexpected, though, was that, despite missing arms, the creature still clung to him; it’s legs calmping tightly about his waist, heels digging into the small of his back, and threads that he could not see, then, twining themselves about him and threatening to crush the breath from him with each passing second…

You are very much like Aranwen, aren't you, the mannequin jeered in it’s incorporeal voice as the mask pressed closer and the gem set into it seemed to glow brighter.

…I have only just met Aranwen, the kazari thought, his teeth clenching against the strain the puppet was placing on him, but I do hope so. Beyond the looming mask, Ch’dau saw Mosic moving to Kith’s side and, hoping to distract the thing from it’s own notice of the thief and cleric, managed to get a grip on either side of the creature’s ‘face.’ “This is a wat you will not win,” the Silver Cat snarled, pressing with all the strength he could muster on either side of the mask, “Hide your face as you will, but remember mine!”

Just as the first cracking sound snapped the air around the masked, wooden face, there was, also, a flash of darkness and steel. The increasing pressure about his hips and chest lessened and, then, fell away entirely as Kith’s attacks hewed through the thing’s hip-joints and the mannequin slipped from his grasp.

Tch. Almost. The voice was disappointed but far from defeated as Mosic, Ch’dau, and Kith loomed over the motionless thing to which it had been attached.

“It appears I've won, actually,” Kith sneered, glaring down at the thing, “You do not seem like one of the slitch's goons. Who are you? How do you know who we are?”

The dismembered puppet didn’t respond straight away and, in their curiosity as to how or even if it might respond, Ch’dau and the others failed to notice the apothecary, herself, still hastily grinding herbs and K’hra-only-knew-what-else in her mortar…

Irritated, Kith poked at the still, wooden form; “I asked you a question!”

I'm in no state to answer. I'm a bit in pieces, as you can see.

"You sure talk just fine."

… Quite suddenly, a bowl landed in the middle of the group, breaking on top of the wooden torso of the puppet, scattering powder into the air. A glance to the source of the bowl revealed the shopkeeper with a hand over her lips in surprise, as if to say 'did I do that?' The powder dispersed into the air from the impact, directly in the faces of all three intent on interrogating the puppet.

I am Morgana, the disembodied voice almost sniggered, and you are my prey.

Kazari are not prey, Ch’dau thought even as the spreading cloud threatened to numb his thoughts along with his body, we are predators! The feel of Kithran’s hand, clutching at his fur in that moment, prompted a blink from him and, in that fractional span of time, too, convinced him to hold his breath.

“We have to get out of here,” Kithran wheezed, patting at his arm, then.

Ch’dau’s turquoise glare flicked from the motionless puppet at his feet, to the look of feigned surprise on the apothecary’s features, and, finally, he nodded. Returning both of his blades to their sheathes, he filled his hands with the collars of Kith and Mosic’s garments and hauled them to and through the doors of the shop into the fresher air beyond. It felt as though he dragged them through the thick swamps of Gabonsa’a for as heavy as they seemed, at first, but with each breath, the weight of the two lightened (or, possibly, the pair managed to get their own feet under them). Either way, and in due time, the three found themselves in the shadiws of another dank Davnor alleyway, catching their breath and assessing the situation, each in their own fashion.

“That thing knows Aranwen,” Kith breathed heavily, pushing herself away from the wall against which she had been propped, “A few of Adedre’s minions might be nothing for her, but if our bladesinger is ambushed by one of those creatures,” she shrugged, “I don’t know, but we may be out a bladesinger. Let’s head to the garden. Hopefully she will meet us there shortly.”

“Knows,” Mosic wheezed, still trying to catch his own clear breath, “or knew?” The little cleric wobbled on his feet and blinked a bit as his gray eyes searched the faces of the half-Syl and the kazari who towered over him. “I don’t know how long either of you may have lived… or how long you might… but I do know that Sylvari likely live longer than us all. Mayhap this is an enemy our bladesinger has forgotten from long ago…” He stumbled forward, kept from falling on his face only by the kazari reaching out to keep him on his feet, then pressed a hand to the walls of the alley and heaved dryly, clearing his lungs and guts of the ‘sleeping powder’ before sheepishly suggesting; “Evil taunts and evil boasts. Our bladesinger may not even be aware of this threat, just now.”

“True,” Ch’dau half-sneezed, half-chuffed, his eyes darting between Kith and Mosic, “but I think it is wise if we follow Kithran’s suggestion and make for the gardens. We can ask Aranwen what she knows when she meets us there.”

He snorted, again, and shook his head, trying to shake off the mild vertigo and disorienting double-vision that breathing the powder had brought upon him. Then, as his legs steadied, surveyed the other two in his company. “Are you both well,” he asked, “or shall we wait a moment longer?”

...I blame a case of the oogs at the end of last week and an abominable workload at the beginning of this one.

That said, I am currently working on posteseseseseseseseses for all games to which thy're owed. Hope to have something ready very soon.

I'll be looking forward to see how that plays out.

Sorry for lack of posts on my part. Been busy with work and, by the end of the day, just too eye-toasted to look at a screen. Will do my very best to get something tacked up, today, though.  

...I'm a loophole!

Bar-B-Ghoul!

Had to laugh at the Alacrity comment - for the record, Alacrity has killed more of my characters than Olan has, I'm almost sure of it! 

I guess that's not an entirely true statement, either... My characters tend to die because I play them that way... Have that tendency of "throwing myself in front of trains" as Vanadia once put it. *shrugs* Sooo.... yeeeeaaaaaahhhh...

Anyhoo... I've shaken off the stomach bug and am getting myself back in the groove, so to speak... Posts forthcoming for this game, and that one, and the other one, too... I may get really ambitious and write posts for games that I don't even play in. Ya never know.

Take all the liberties you like! That's about how I saw it playing out, myself.

Ch'dau, of course, would have loved to have made more of a mess in the shop but I figure he took in a pretty big whiff of the "powder bomb," himself, so getting the F out was definitely the best choice.

Finally feeling much better, today, so hoping to get some posts done at last.

Welcome back!