Okay... I must have misread or misinterpreted something along the way... I'll review and revise a bit later. Thanks, brother.

Got a work call to attend to, atm, but will read, absorb, and reply as needed a bit later!

Stardate 2365.02.21 (Sunday)
U.S.S. Peregrine; Deck 1 - Bridge – 0423

“As you will, Lieutenant,” Tochi grinned in reply to the CSO’s request to take her leave, “but, if there was something you were working on, here, please, don’t feel as if we’re chasing you off the Bridge, or that you’d be a distraction should you choose to stay...”

 “Thank you, sir,” she managed somewhat hurriedly. “I have work to do back at my quarters. You know what they say; Time cannot be taught new tricks.” 

And a stitch in an old dog is a penny earned. The Trill managed to stifle a chuckle at Asovil’s mixed idiom and, instead, simply offered a nod and a smile; “Very well, Lieutenant. Have a wonderful morning.” By the stars, she is beautiful…

He acknowledged the salute that the woman had snapped off, then, and watched as she strode for the turbolift. He wasn’t entirely sure that he’d seen it correctly as Asovil seemed more than a bit rushed in her exit but Tochi thought that the CSO’s cheeks might have flushed to a light violet hue as she made her way off the bridge. Did we embarrass her, he wondered as she stepped onto the lift and, then, disappeared behind the closing door. Not our intention, at all, he sighed inwardly, his gaze tracking away from the hatchway and panning back across the bridge to the viewscreen, I’ll have to be sure to apologize for that, later. Settling back into the command chair, Zai closed his eyes for a moment, attempting, once more, to chase the lingering effects of the anesthizine (and the persistent dream images) from his mind before turning his attentions to his work.

A soft chirp from the console mounted in the arm of the chair coaxed his eyes open and drew his attention to the small screen. Preliminary analytics from Silas’ simulation were coming in from the query he’d started minutes ago and, surely, the reports he’d requested Tactical and Operations would be following soon enough… Oh, frill, he silently cursed as, in his scrolling, he was reminded of a previous message from Lt Nyle to which he had yet to respond… his finger flicked at the screen, located and opened the unanswered communique…

LCDR Zai,

At your earliest convenience, sir, I would appreciate a meeting with you to discuss any equipment or requisitions that the Flight Department might be in need of.

Also, to keep you informed of  Operations Department operations, I intend to try and implement a "Food night" of sorts in which Petty Officer Finnley will head the preparation of some non-replicator made food that we have aboard. I hope to make this a weekly occurrence every Wednesday night. 

The investigation into the small computer blip is ongoing, however, I regret to inform you that it has thus far been ineffective.

Cordially,

LT Nyle, COO

…The XO considered the message for a moment, his gaze sweeping the bridge to ensure that nothing else would require his immediate attention, before composing his overdue response…

LT Nyle,

My apologies for having not replied in a more timely fashion; circumstances have outweighed consideration, I’m afraid.

As to your proposed meeting, I find myself on duty earlier than expected, this morning, and can entertain a consultation at your convenience... Given the results of this morning’s drill, an updated course of Command Training programs will certainly be appreciated and I’ll be sure to compile a list of any other items that Flight Control might need, this cycle.

The “Fresh Food Night” you plan to implement sounds wonderful and I have no doubt that a regular event of this sort will go a long way to keeping morale high among the crew. Petty Officer Finnley is an excellent choice in this matter as she has repeatedly demonstrated what can only be referred to as “culinary wizardry” with our existing stores, replicated or otherwise. I look forward to seeing this plan come to fruition.

Finally, thank you for the update and your continued attention to the computer troubles. Please do keep me posted as to progress in this matter and let me know if you require any additional manpower from Engineering to support the effort. Crewman Adler has demonstrated an advanced knowledge of computing systems and may be useful where diagnostics and troubleshooting are concerned.

We can discuss any of the items above in greater detail when your schedule allows us to meet. Again, I’ll be on the bridge until 1500 but, barring any unforeseen complications, should be able to accommodate a meeting at your convenience.

Regards,

LCDR Zai

The reply complete, Tochi sent the message to Lt Nyle, and returned to his review of the analytics and reports from this mornings simulation.

Quit encouraging the GM to kill us! He hasn't even made the taunt sheet I requested, yet!

Besides... I don't wanna be a rug for The Dark One!!!! 

Glad to hear it!

Completely understand how that all goes... we've all been there once or twice, haven't we? Once a week or more, either way, glad to have him still aboard.

I'm with ya, Padre!

... but I think I've gotten caught up!

Thren's heart melts for Millae, of course, and, playing on Dane's sympathetic nature, he's attempting to coax a tru and honest tale from the girl... and perhaps exposing himself as a bit of a romantic....

P.S. While Thren is there, tending to Millae's face, he'll also be eying the lock to her cell and determining wheter or not it might be fruitful to pick it and, possibly, disguise the girl as a memeber of the troupe and smuggle her out of the prison... a man has a soft spot for the wrongfully charged, you know?

As foot met floorboard, Thren’s gaze swept over the diverse congregation and noted the absence of a certain surly woodsman... Curious, he thought, pinching one point of his mustache between finger and thumb as he found a seat for himself, a man would have expected that one to yet be skulking about. Mayhap we lot didn’t wake quickly enough for his liking… As he swung a leg over a chair, though, and allowed his ears to filter through the words that floated through the common room’s air, a man came to understand that he may have missed a thing or three in dallying long enough to be the last of them down the steps.

"Yes,” the bowman whose name a man had learned was Dane, said, apparently in reply to a query posed by the innkeep, “it is our intent to do our best for Mistress Vellalin."

"Well..." The Innkeep paused, taking a deep breath. "I've... You've... Bah! The wife has had words with me and... Well... Mistress Velalin and Millae are very dear to us, as I'm sure you know, and... Well... As long as I have your word that there will be no trouble, and that you will prove Millae's innocence and that that bear won't show his face around here again... Then... The lot of you have a room here at the Gleeman's Abode for as long as you need. Free of charge."

“Free of charge,” Thren murmured to no one in particular, his brow raised in appreciation at the offer and fingers moving to absently toy with the gold hoop piercing his ear, “a man’s favorite price.”

"Master Masteon,” the bowman returned, “you have my word that we will do everything we can to prove young Millae innocent.  But you must know we cannot promise success.  I can't speak for the others, but I will happily take your generous offer should we succeed and expect nothing should we fail.  But success is something I cannot promise.  What I can promise is the greatest effort possible.  That is a thing I can do.  And then we see where things go."  Pausing just long enough to glance at the door, but not long enough to give the innkeeper a chance to respond, he added, "As for the obnoxiously loud and ill-mannered cretin you and your-man Boz just showed to the door, I assure you I only met him last night.  And I believe I can say the same for my companions as well.  He is not 'with us' in any way.  If he truly intends to aid us in helping Mistress Vellalin, I suppose we must let him come with us to the jail, but I don't know that any of us have any more influence on him than anyone else here.  Please, do not hold us responsible for his actions.  Still, I will do my best to steer him clear of your establishment."  Glancing at the door he added, "Or maybe we will all get lucky and he will wander off and none of us will ever see him again."

Not with us? The smuggler’s brow spiked again, this time in something less than appreciation, and his own gaze flitted for the door. Was it not the same loud and ill-mannered cretin that first intervened on a girl’s behalf or does a man misremember events… “Hmmm,” Thren sighed softly as he reclined a bit in his seat and considered the possible ramifications of the apparent loss of the brusque Lanur and the ease with which Dane disassociated him from the remainder of the gathering. Aside from that vocalization, however, a man let his thoughts on the matter go unspoken for the time being. The simplicity of the matter was that, as a group, this party was responsible for rescuing Millae from an obviously undeserved fate and, in the end, that was all that mattered. As such, a man kept his thoughts to himself and left it to the turning of the Wheel to see that justice was done. Just so, breakfast had or not, the party issued forth from the Gleeman’s Abode and, after more than one wrong turn and a few missteps, found it’s way to the jailhouse in which the girl whom they’d encountered the past night awaited her fate.

As the party approached and the bowman, Dane, turned his attentions to the Aes Sedai in their company…

 "Za'ahrat,” the man said, as the rag tag group drew nearer the jail, “I was thinking that perhaps you might speak for us. You might be able to get more information than the rest of us."

...He was likely correct, Thren couldn’t help but admit, but, in that same instant, the Ebou Dari took some minor offense in knowing that the bowman put the diplomatic skills of a weaver above those of a skilled and silver tongued trader such as himself. He bothered not to comment on such matters, though, as the very thought of presenting himself in any sort of facility such as this without having been led there in shackles was disquieting enough and, as Za’ahrat capitalized on her presence and power, simply allowed himself to be carried into the situation on it’s own merit. A man quietly attended the conversations that took place, of course, and, as they were permitted entrance, followed along as the Wheel provided he should, watching and listening carefully to the chatter that took place and the disposition of the guards as they were shown in.

The mismatched group of travelers opened the door to the jailhouse and strode inside. The lobby of the jailhouse was lit by the two windows looking out onto the street outside where the town could be seen slowly waking up. A soft scratching came from the corner where a scribe sat at a desk, writing quickly with a quill and not even bothering to look up from his work as the five individuals entered. A couple of strides away from the entrance sat a sturdy desk, an unlit lamp and ink blotted papers littering its surface, and behind it sat another very bored looking guardsman who was perusing the documents in front of him.

With a sniff, the guard looked up from his papers and took in the visitors. 

Stepping forward, Thren smiled, his mustache fluttering. "My good Master Jailor," He began, "We're --"

"Yes, yes. I know who you are." The guard interrupted, standing up and using one hand to keep his belted sword from between his legs, the other to rub his bare chin….

Oh, a man hardly believes that you do, the Ebou Dari managed not to speak aloud whilst, at the same time, keeping the chuckle that threatened to burst forth from his lungs in check, but tell yourself what you will.

"Dane's been yellin' 'bout a bunch of strangers defyin' the law and Jandran did say that there'd be visitors for Millae,” the jailor continued in an irreverent fashion that called into question his conviction and made a man miss the manners of old Ebou Dar all the more, “Tol' me I was 'pose to let you see Millae, so let's get to it now, yeah?"

The troupe was led deeper into the jail and, at the end of Norral’s persistent disrespect, were deposited before a cell behind the bars of which, a scene unfolded that twisted a phantom blade in Thren’s dark heart…

As the group approached, Millae stirred. Her face was dirty, and tear streaks were clearly visible. Her brown hair was all in disarray and her plain, but well-made dress was wrinkled and covered in the dirty hay that covered her cell floor. She squinted in the flickering light of the lamp, holding a hand to shield it from her eyes. With a sniff, she tried to peer past the light and look at her visitors.

"W-who are you?" She asked, her voice raw and trembling.

“I’m Dane,” the bowman offered, softly, attempting to assuage the girl’s uncertainty, “I’m new here and so are these others.  We are hoping to learn a bit about your situation and maybe help out.  Last night we encountered Mistress Vellalin and a certain tavern keeper both of whom seemed quite distressed at your situation.  Neither seemed to believe that you could have done what you are accused of.”  He paused a moment.  “We don’t know much about what happened, but I do know that a lot of people really seem to care about you.  Care and believe that you are a good person.  That, at least, is something to smile about.

In my experience, people don’t suddenly do things completely out of character.  Your family and friends didn’t just say you didn’t do it, but that you wouldn’t and couldn’t have done it.  Their words and tears were enough to get those of us you see in front of you to offer to try and help.”

A man watched as the interaction between the bowman and the imprisoned girl continued and, try as he might to restrain himself, a man found himself, more and more, wanting to jimmy the lock of the poor girl’s cell and set her free. He managed to do so, however, as Dane’s courtesy and honor continued to shine through, even allowing a bright smile as the young bowman passed a bottle of water through the bars, allowing the girl a much needed sip and, perchance, a splash of water to clean her soiled face. When the girl only slaked her thirst from the proffered flask, though, Thren could no longer play the disinterested observer and, as Millae made to pass the vessel back through the bars, a man brushed a spill of dark locks behind his ear, stepped forward, and took the bottle into his own hands. He spilled a small bit of the bowman’s water onto a corner of his cloak and, as Dane coaxed her to relate her tale to the troupe who had come to pat her a visit, reached his own hands through the bars to pat and wipe the tear-streaked grime from a girl’s face.

“Only when a girl is ready,” Thren assured her, softly, wiping a smudge from her cheek, “We are friends, sweet, and are only here to see that the Wheel turns as it should. Speak what you know and what you think and a man and his friends will listen and hear, yes?”

...no one fell down the turbo lift shaft?

What kind of evil GM are you???

I suppose I should do something about an NPC post or two from Flight Control personnel, too... At least by way of checking in with a few characters and, perhaps, setting up some RP fodder for Ens Garner.

For an encounter generator something relatively simple, I suppose, along the lines of:

• Input for terrain type


• Input for Party size/level


• Results based on the above variables

The dungeon/map generator might be trickier, especially if  you decided to go graphical with it. A simpler approach might be to simply do something along the lines of compile a list of features (hallways, rooms, stairs, etc) and tie it into a dice roll of some type that results in simple text - roll a 01 on a d100: "A narrow stone hallway, about two meters wide and four meters tall extends before you for about 20 meters"

Something like that?

I'm still waiting on that coffee maker!!! 

I like the idea of an Encounter Generator, myself... and, perhaps, a random dungeon/map generator? Maybe a sheet that allows characters to tally up the times their GM has taunted them with threats of a TPK and being sacrificed to The Dark One?

An evening at the Gleeman’s Abode

It was not often that a man found himself second-guessing his own thoughts and actions. In fact, with every turning of the Wheel, such a thing had become all the more rare and, perhaps, a point of pride for Thren al’Rilin to be matched only by his discretion and skill. In joining the motley assemblage from the streets at a table in the Gleeman’s Abode, however, a man found himself wondering at the wisdom of casting in his lot with such an assembly. While the attention paid to Mistress Velalin was courteous and respectful, the questioning of the woman lacked any sort of tact with which the Ebou Dari might have approached… The gruff bluntness of the woodsman had not taken a man by surprise, of course, (even if the lack of manners might have taken him aback), but, in spite of the respect shown the woman, the seemingly rapid-fire barrage of queries from the rest who had come to the aid of Velalin and her daughter struck him as somewhat less than circumspect. This perceived lack of manners served well to keep a man’s tongue stilled and, yet, his ears open… without being too obvious about it, for certain.

Honeyed eyes absorbed the cozy and well-lived interior of the place and keen ears did not fail to catch the boisterous welcome from the barman nor the familiar strains of Bouncing on the Stormy Seas as they lilted from the fiddle player in the corner. Indeed, a man may have even found himself humming along to the tune as he took a seat at the far end of the table at which the extemporized party convened. Aside from proximity, in fact, a man’s association with the group may well have gone unnoticed by any of the establishment’s other patrons, as he sat with his back to the group and, when he wasn’t singing along with the fiddler or placing his order with the servers, his eyes roamed an easy circuit about the place, and he feigned no interest in the conversations that were taking place around him. In the time that passed, a man sipped at whatever wine might have been offered and, also, ordered a bowl of stew and a crust or two of bread… It would do should they have some squid or octopus, he thought sorrowfully, a man shouldn’t hope for such things this far north… the only times he might have been seen taking even a passing interest in the goings on around the table were those instances in which the ranger lost his temper and the time when the innkeeper showed up, concerned that the party might be harassing poor Velalin. Even then, a man’s interest was little more than an over the shoulder glance that lingered a split-second longer than it should have or, mayhap, the twitch of an ear when a particularly intriguing bit of information might have piqued his interest. Otherwise, the unobtrusive Ebou Dari was just that; offering little to the conversation but harvesting any remotely important nugget of information from the goings on.

At the end of the evening, a man excused himself to those who might have outlasted him, and adjourned to his room knowing little more than what little nuggets he’d gleaned from the conversations around him and that there was a man in a black coat who seemed to have his finger on the pulse of Mealdon. Beyond this, a man could gauge very little and, as this particular lack of information intrigued him, a man decided to linger in the town and see what profit might come of it…

Morning and Millae

Sleep had found a man easily but, as was the way of the Wheel, that easy sleep hadn’t been precisely peaceful. Curious thoughts chased his dreams and picked more questions than part on a tinker’s cart from them. What strange turnings had found Thren al’Rilin in Maeldon and in the company of such a lot? What weaves were at play that brought a man into the dealings of Aes Sedai when, in most instances, a man would go a long distance out of his way to avoid one… especially when this particular Aes Sedai proposed that a man of Thren’s ilk should willfully make an appearance in the jailhouse of an unfamiliar town in order to render aide to yet another girl with, at least, tenuous ties to that same order? Light stab my eyes, the Ebou Dari muttered in his sleep, a man is taken from his elements and thrust into anoth…

Whump! Whump! Whump!

“The day escapes us!”

Chased rudely from sleep, Thren’s eyes snapped open and his hand found the long, curved knife at the bedside. He blinked into the dawn-streaked air of his room and rubbed at his eyes, muttering a curse under his breath as recognition of the bellowing voice found it’s way into his mind… The uncouth woodsman… Lanur, was it?...

From farther down the hall – Whump! Whump! Whump!

“If you wish to spare the youngling the headsman’s ax, we best be about it!”

…Should a man have to spend much time with that one, Thren mused, stretching and yawing as he got his feet under him, some lessons in etiquette may be in order, yes?...

Whump! Whump! Whump! – More shouting, accompanied by the opening and closing of doors and, on at least one occasion, words of rebuke that went only half heard given that their volume wasn’t half of the woodsman’s pounding.

…Or, perhaps, a girl will tend to the teaching, Thren chuckled to himself as he dressed, belted his rapier on, and gathered his things before putting his room behind him in favor of the inn’s common room.

Descending the stairs, the Ebou Dari found most of the others already gathered. “Light and a good morning to you all,” he greeted them from behind a roguish grin, “a man trusts you are all well rested and were awakened as gently as I, yes?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

((OOC: More to come, of course… figured as I promised a post by lunchtime (and it’s now after) I’d go ahead and tack up what I had finished. Not my best but it is helping get me back into Thren’s head, anyway… Scenes from the jail coming a bit later.))

...throw a slice of sharp cheddar on that bad boy and I'm munchin'!!!

A quote about the apple not falling far from the tree comes to mind but... you know... You probably already knew that.

....finally caught up on all the interaction that occured at the Gleeman's Abode and thereafter and, have a post in the works. With a tiny bit of luck and a light workload in the morning, I should have something from Thren NLT lunchtime, tomorrow. That said (and for the benefit of anyone who might be posting up before I get around to it) the "nuts and bolts" of it are going to be as follows:

• Upon entering the Gleeman's abode, Thren mostly kept to himself (ordering a meal and a few drinks, listening to the music, perhaps even engaging in a dance or two), but never wandered far enough away to lose track of the conversation and information that was flowing between the more vocal of our little party (doing the smuggler gathers information bit whilst being unobtrusive bit, right?)...


• He's formed a few opinions and ideas about the remainder of the party (and Millae's situation) that will likely be addressed in his in post thoughts but none of those truly have any effect on the tale going forward (at least until I form real questions to bombard Giddy with somewhere along the line).


• He, too, procurred a room at the inn for the evening and spent some time honing his blade and the like before settling into a restful if somewhat contemplative sleep, and, the following morning, found his way to the common room where he awaited the arrival of the others and, per the night before, kept to himself but always remained within earshot.


• Finally, as some of the others departed to go and see to Millae's fate, he followed along unobtrusively (perhaps not even being noticed) but refused to enter the jailhouse, just yet. He may be considering what contacts he has (or might make) in the city and what information he might manage to wrest from such.

Anyhoo... that's where I'm at, now, as far as a man's ideas and schemeing is concerned. A man hopes to have a more detailed post to this effect available for a company on the morrow, yes?

We love you, too!!!

The scream and leap theme continues!

It's not his fault that you monkeys take too long to think, though.

I chalk it up to cultural differences...

On Antaron: The dragon roars and rears back it's head to strike. The cleric casts a protection spell, the wizard preps a wall of force that will hopefully save her compatriots from the wyrm's breath weapon, the fighters raise shields and ready arms.

On Capasha: The dragon roars and rears back it's head to strike. Every Kazari roars back and charges the dragon!!!

...that Ch'dau would most certainly wait for that CLW to be cast before taking Kith and heading back to camp. As I said, the Kazari has no means of affecting her healing on his own and he absolutely wants to see her live through this, sooo...

Stardate 2365.02.21
U.S.S. Peregrine; Deck 1 - Bridge – 0423

“Good morning, Lieutenant,” Tochi smiled as Asovil glanced over her shoulder, her eyes meeting his, “We thought you were supposed to be off, today.”

The Andorian woman blinked, her antennae drooping faintly as an ambiguous expression flitted, briefly over her fine features. “I am, sir,” she hurriedly replied just as her hesitation evoked a faintly raised brow from Zai, “I answered the alarms. I’ll be returning to my quarters now… with your permission, of course.”

She had tugged (somewhat nervously it seemed) at the hem of her uniform shirt as she turned to fully face him and, for whatever reason, that subtle action evoked a surreal remembrance of finding her face amongst a throng on a Risan beach; her azure eyes gathering the moonlight, lips slightly parted, an expression on her face that was enticingly prim and pert all at once. In the wash of that callback to his dream, Tochi realized that it was he, this time, who had hesitated in responding. He cleared his throat as he blinked away the thought, then offered a nod.

 “As you will, Lieutenant,” he grinned in reply, “but, if there was something you were working on, here, please, don’t feel as if we’re chasing you off the Bridge, or that you’d be a distraction should you choose to stay…”  

Or, at least, not too much of a distraction, he silently appended, still unable to fully shake the dreamy images of her from his waking mind.

((OOC: Completely up to Asovil as to whether she takes her leave, here, of course. Her choice determines what comes next.))

...if we die we get to come back as zombies and don't have to be all heroic, anymore... We just get to go around randomly munching on villagers and such.

Yup, yup! Let's call it foregoing the stuck blade for the time being. I'm good with that.

I kid, of course... GMs do what GMs do and, in my opinion, it make for good storytelling and neat little subtelties that add realism and flavor.

In my previous post, I had Ch'dau pull the blade from the tree trunk (but, I guess I didn't realize how deeply he'd thunked it in there). As he's got one blade free, along with his backup dagger, teeth, claws (and the possible availability of Kith's blades) available, I think he'd likely abandon the one falcata in deference to saving his friend. That said, I think he might also have sense enough to not move at full speed on the way back to the campsite... No sense in outdistancing the others as 1) all of the healers are back there and it's not like he can heal the rogue himself, and 2) there just might be a need for him if the party gets overwhelmed by the horde.

...has my vote. Bring it with the mana-mashing!

What a world!!!!

Got to post up to another game or two but I'll try and get something going for this, after.  

...might keep making threats and find a nasty surpirse from the Christmas Kazari in his sandbox in the morning.

#PokingTheBear