Working on a post for Tochi, now, if that helps.

“Attention, Troubleshooter team MAO-17859 Dot R-2. Sensors indicate that your team has sustained yet another regrettable casualty…”

Ammpe had heard those words enough in the past half an hour that he was all but certain they had become laser-etched into his brain. A bad choice of analogy, there, he decided, watching as the Vultures appeared, yet again, to claim a fallen clone and replace it with another.

“You worms are really good at this,” one of the Vultures sneered in the dark, “You guys may want to see if they need help scrubbing the food vats.  You might live longer!”

Ammpe just shook his head as the Vulture Squad and their chuckling disappeared behind the door, again. They’re not entirely wrong, he sighed, though the way things are going, scrubbing the food vats might just end with one of us becoming food. So… there’s that…

“It seems someone does not want us to see where we are going,” Brighte-2’s voice interrupted Ammpe’s plodding thoughts, “Maybe Computer wants to make sure we are not exposed to things that would make us question it's wisdom.  It would seem that the conga line might be our best hope.”

Ammpe was about to agree but, before he could form the words to do so, Brighte burst into song again. “Day-o, Dayaa-o, daylight gone and me wanna go on!” The tune hurt his head as much as the interruption of his yet unspoken reply. Ammpe rubbed at his temples, took a deep breath, and made to say something, again, but…

“Team Leader, under your command we have efficiently moved about fifty feet in the last half hour,” it was Steam, this time, who interrupted the words that hadn’t quite made it to Ammpe’s lips, “We are keeping Friend Computer waiting. I revoke my request to lead in order to allow you to do your best job from where you belong, in the front.”

“Okay, okay,” Ammpe grumbled as he felt a hand come to light on his shoulder, “I was…”

"Whaddya say Team Leader,” Steam pressed, again, interrupting Ammpe’s progress toward finishing a sentence, “You gonna lead us out of this or waste more of Friend Computer's time?”

“I’m gonn…”

The buzzing of a whisper in the darkened corridor interrupted him, then, and a buzzing in his brain, too. His face felt hot and, he was sure, had there been any light to show it, his visage was certainly as red as his clearance level. “Everyone SHUT UP!!! We ALL would like to go on and do as Friend Computer has asked but it seems that you lot can’t keep from getting yourselves killed long enough for us to get ANYWHERE!!! So, yes! I will lead as I have been asked… everyone line up, hand on the shoulder in front of you and NOWHERE ELSE!!! No talking! Just walking! Let’s move!”

Excited to have you join us!

Had a PMR today that took up all of my time... will try and get something done about a post shortyl but am also gearing up for a trip to MO for the weekend. If you want to NPC Ammpe this round, feel free. Should be back in the "full swing" come Monday.

A couple of OOCs to go along with that last one---

1. Took a small liberty inserting a snippet of dialogue and a minor action for Kith. Hope it's okay.


2. Mort's reserve ale... made the assumption that Mort would be okay with Ch'dau helping himself to it, at this point, especially given the night's events. Coin can, of course, be deducted from ol' kitty-puss' bank should the innkeeper see fit.

Now, then, I think Ch'dau will likely be of a mind with Gib on what to do next and when to do it... Seek out Atharis' order, find out what happened to Davena and her bodyguard, etc, muy rapido... but, if the general consensus is that we hang out and rest up, Ch'dau will begrudgingly comply to that, as well.

“…They come at night - the restless ones.  They never stop.  They never tire…”

The words of the bedraggled Lysoran priest are a tinny echo in the Kazari’s mind as, with the night past and the dawn now trying to pierce the mists, Ch’dau’s eyes turn east toward the rising sun. “The night is done,” the Silver Cat chuffed softly to no one in particular, “and they may not have tired but they are stopped…”

His blades were pushed back into their scabbards, then, and his hands came away from the hilts sticky with blood and gore. His eyes closed and he stood, for a moment, letting the morning’s first light warm his face as he sent up silent supplication to Rrowl (to honor the battle they’d just fought) and Keziri (to tend the wounded and the dead). Only when Kithran slinked past him, her fingers whispering briefly through the fur at his back as she went, did the cat-man’s eyes open.

“Come,” she said, tipping her head in the direction of the others who were already trudging wearily back toward the Nicked Shill, “it’s over.”

“…For now,” Ch’dau rumbled quietly, offering a faint nod before falling into step beside the half-Syl thief and joining what remained of their party.

Upon returning to the Shill, as the others set about pursuing their own after-battle rituals, the Kazari warrior padded in silence toward the inn’s kitchen where he poured himself a sizeable tankard of Mort’s reserve ale before reemerging into the common room and finding a seat in which to rest for a while.

“I shall now hold services to honor the Work of the Battle Lord that was done this past night,” Gib was saying as Ch’dau straddled a bench and took a long pull from the ale, “Should any wish to participate, you are welcome. I know not what friend Atharis' order holds as ritual or rites for burial and to honor him, I believe we should wait upon our meeting with said order's representative before deciding such things.”

“Agreed,” the cat-man grunted, wiping ale from his whiskers and offering a short nod.

Therassor’s priest turned to Mort, then, and asked; “Would you mind if I hold services here, at the hearth?”

Ch’dau didn’t actually hear Greenfield’s reply as, following another swallow of ale, the Kazari found himself staring absently at where Atharis’ blood still streaked the fur of his chest. He was sure, given the innkeep’s honorable nature, that Gib’s request would not be denied. His numb fascination by the fallen wizard’s blood was only broken when the battle-cleric excused himself…

“I shall return momentarily,” Gib said, somewhat wearily.

… Blinking as if coming out of a trance, Ch’dau’s eyes lift and find the brave cleric. Lifting his tankard in salute, he nodded his acknowledgement. “We will go nowhere without you, friend,” he rumbled as the man momentarily retreated to his chambers.

In the time it took for Gib to return, the Kazari had finished the first tankard of ale and had begun nursing a second. He watched as the priest deposited his pack by the hearth, retrieved his prayer book, and set about preparing for his services. While he didn’t actually participate, the Silver Cat did move to a seat closer to the hearth and watched and listened in respectful silence as Gib went about his rites and rituals. When the man had finished, Ch’dau offered a nod. Therassor was not his god but, in the time he had spent among the humans of Antaron and, especially, these last months in Gib’s company, Ch’dau had come to see many parallels between ‘The Battle Lord’ and Rrowl, so, to some degree, the ceremonies revering the human deity comforted him.

“So,” Gib said, having stowed his prayer book and, now, shouldering his pack, “Are we to be about our business then? Seek out Atharis’ order and then…”

Ch’dau had already started getting to his feet and draining the remains of the tankard when the priest’s words stopped short.

“…Where is Cedric?”

The Kazari looked about curiously. He hadn’t seen the other cleric slip away but he was certain that the man couldn’t have gone far. “Resting, perhaps,” Ch’dau suggested, setting his tankard aside, now, and offering an uncertain shrug, “It was a long night.”

“Are we then resting before pursuing a meet,” Gib asked, raising his brows.

To answer this, all the Kazari could do was offer another shrug and lift his hands in a way that emoted uncertainty… or exasperation… or both. His eyes turned to the bladesinger, then; “What say you, Aranwen? Would you have me fetch Cedric or do we wait?”

Ch'dau is really starting to like that little monkey!!!

...makes us happy!

Stardate 2365.02.12
USS Peregrine, Captain's Ready Room - 09:44

The summons was not entirely unexpected. Given the events that had transpired, even from the beginning of this mission, Tochi Zai was certain that things were not going to be the same for himself, Silas, the Peregrine, or, for that matter, the whole of Starfleet ever again. Even as he strode toward his meeting with Captain Drake, the Trill couldn’t help but think back to the conversation that he and his friend had had only weeks (or was it only days?) ago… Talks of adjoining cells on a penal colony somewhere, allusions to Drake’s ancestors and their “interpretations of the rules,” even the lengths that Tochi would have been willing to go to for his commanding officer, regulations be damned, flooded through his mind as he approached Drake’s ready room door… and a faint, yet haunted smile spread across the XO’s face as he queued the chime.

Silas is resigned to what he believes to be his fate, Tochi mused, bracing himself for whatever the Captain might have to say, Feels he deserves it, as if it were some sort of penance…

“Enter,” came the response to the electronic hail.

The Trill did, of course, and, from just a glance at the Captain, could see the weariness in the man’s face. A weariness that was borne on more than a physical level, resultant of the trials and tribulations weighing on him from the recent mission. It was more a soul-deep exhaustion etched into Silas’ features that Tochi glimpsed as he strode through the door and, without being invited, sat himself, wordlessly, in his customary place across the Captain’s desk.

For a long moment, only the sound of their respective breaths passed between them and, while Silas reclaimed his façade, Tochi tried his best to still his heart for what was to come…

"Hell of a mission, eh Tochi?" Drake asked.

The Trill chuckled softly as he nodded, knowing that Drake wasn’t necessarily expecting an answer but, also, prepared to give one, anyway. “Indeed it was, my friend,” he concurred, reclining into the tall back of the chair to which he’d relegated himself; his eyes skimming the various model ships that hung about his CO’s office and fixing, finally, on the effigy of The Golden Hind for a moment before skipping back to the man across the desk, “Your ancestors could not be more proud, we’re sure.”  

"We will be back at Starbase 118 soon enough," the Captain continued, "and we both know what will happen when we get there.  I'll be relieved of command and escorted from the Peregrine; depending on how much fuss Jacobs has raised and what the local attitudes are towards making a spectacle - attitudes I likely did not improve with my stunt towards station security - I will probably be led away in binders."

Tochi opened his mouth to state that, in no way, shape, or form, would he have ever allowed Silas Drake to be led off of his own ship in binders but…

Drake raised a hand to forestall any objection.  "It’s okay, Tochi.  I won't pretend that I'm happy with the situation, but I have come to peace with it.  After all, what would you have me do?  Hoist a Jolly Roger and take the Peregrine rogue?"  

His gaze strayed upon the model of the Golden Hind hung upon his wall, and Drake chuckled.  "Another lifetime, another set of circumstances... perhaps."

Grinning, the Trill XO shrugged faintly, and offered; “There are worse ways to go, my friend. Resignation being one. We seem to recall a tale of Edward teach being…”

Silas shook his head, cutting his XO’s line of thought off in the middle.  "Seeing as how my fate is quite sealed, I have but two concerns remaining.  One, I will insist that the truth of the events surrounding the Gamera mission come to light."  As he spoke, his eyes flared with inner fire.  "Jacobs may well be insulated from real repercussions by his connections," Drake snapped, "but he cannot be left in charge of anything of importance - the facts must be known."

Tochi nodded his understanding and agreement in a single motion; hopefully, leaving no doubt that, regardless of the outcome of Starfleet’s investigation into the matter, that Jacob’s actions and/or inactions would certainly be highlighted. Again, though, Silas managed to forestall any comment from his junior.

The Captain took a deep breath, banking the surprising rush of anger down inside himself, before continuing.  "Two, I want to ensure that my crew is treated fairly.  Their roles in this mission cannot be held against them."

Silas smiled in a self-deprecating manner.  "Tochi, I have heard your talk about adjoining cells on a penal planet, and I cannot express to you how honored I feel from such loyalty.  I am not sure what I have done to deserve it, but I thank you from the bottom of my heart."  Interestingly, Silas found himself having to swallow a knot before he could continue.    "But Tochi, I cannot let that happen.  Starfleet cannot let that happen.  You were following orders, period.  Even if the orders were illegal, you are protected by the same chain of command that damns me.  You flew the intercept course because I told you to.  Berk fired the phasers because I told him to.  Even Commander Farr may be protected - she assumed command of the Coronado on my order, which she believed to be lawful."

“Silas… We… no… I…”

Again, Silas held up a hand to forestall argument.  "Whether or not the order actually was lawful is moot.  You and I both know that relieving a sitting Captain of command is a tenuous prospect, at best; I went into an area the regs simply do not cover when I relieved Jacobs of command of the battle group.  Jacobs is too well connected, and I am barely tolerated.  Reliving him, firing on his ship... a penal colony is likely a merciful outcome for me."

Drake shook his head.  "But not for you.  And don't you dare try to testify in some manner that makes you culpable somehow; it won't save me, it will only damn you, too.  And for what?  No.  You are protected by the chain of command, you accept that, you continue to do the good that you can do... especially since I won't be in the position to do the same any longer."

Chain of command and the protections afforded be damned, the Trill thought about saying, We did what we did because we were right, Silas! How can that be viewed as anything else?

Silas sat up straight.  "Which brings me to why I asked you here.  Tochi, I have been looking at your jacket.  You've been a Lieutenant now for seven years... which is getting to be a long time. Not for lack of ability - you are an incredible pilot, your department is one of the best run I have ever had the pleasure to work with.  You connect so well with everyone; far better than my 'the airlock is in that direction' attitude seems to manage.  Your instincts are excellent.  You are an asset to Starfleet."

Tochi couldn’t help but chuckle at this. “I am a good pilot,” he snickered, “and we hope that we have been just as good at filling the role of your first officer, but even the Symbiosis Commission on Trillius Prime questions our being an asset…” He tapped meaningfully at his temple, and winked, “…glitchy; remember?”

“You are an asset to Starfleet, "Drake repeated, "yet you are in danger of seeing your career stagnate.  If you remain a Lieutenant much longer, you will eventually lose all consideration for further promotion, simply be considered a specialist for the duration of your service.  And that would be a shame."

Silas shook his head.  "In a couple of days, my commission will be revoked.  But as long as I have command, I have the authority to make certain decisions - decisions which, by fleet tradition, are considered to be my right to make, and which are not reviewed or confirmed by anyone."

The Captain placed a small, velvet-lined box on the desk.  Nestled inside was a single hollow pip.  "Computer, record," he spoke.  "By the authority invested in me by the United Federation of Planets, I, Commander Silas Drake, hereby promote Lieutenant Tochi Zai to Lieutenant Commander."

He grinned.  "Field promotions, in fact, are very specifically excluded from review.  Congratulations, Tochi - this is richly deserved."

Tochi gazed at the box which Silas had slid across the desk and, for a moment, marveled at it’s contents, but, soon enough, reached out a hand and snapped the thing shut. “Thank you, my friend,” he smiled genuinely, “but this is not the reason we agreed to serve under you, you know? You, sir, are an excellent officer, a wise leader, and a knowledgeable Captain. That is what makes you the sort of commander Starfleet needs and deserves. Not the handing out of undeserved promotions or the sheltering of your crew from actions you choose to take upon yourself when you know all of us are behind you.” The Trill’s hand closed on the box and drew it across the surface of the desk and, even as he pocketed the thing, he smiled at his friend. “We will take your promotion, Silas,” he offered, “and thank you for it, but do not think that an extra pip will keep us from telling the truth of what transpired here, or the role that we played in it.

You are our friend, Silas Drake,” Tochi Zai smiled softly, reaching a hand across the desk to shake Silas’, “and that is more an honor than any medal, rank, or badge could ever hope to confirm. In the event that they do assign you to a penal colony, rest assured that we will visit you regularly and often.”

No worries, at all.

Uh-oh! Got Ammpe's post in after the explosion of Slipp's weapon... Should have refreshed the page before posting, I guess... I'll shoot for another short post in a bit to address these latest developments.

“Whoa!” Ammpe might have called out in the dark following the energy burst. Might have… had he not been so slow to speak… as it happened, the word escaped him only after he’d toppled from Brighte’s back and found himself lying on his own alongside the partially cooked step-stool clone. Groaning, Ammpe sits himself up and, trying to peer through the dark to assess the situation, once more, mutters; “Well… that didn’t go the way I had imagined it might.” The Power Services clone coughs and tries to fan away the surprisingly unappetizing stench of charred meat as he gets to his feet…

“Attention, Troubleshooter team MAO-17859 Dot R-2,” the Computer’s voice crackles from the speaker, “Sensors indicate that your team has sustained another regrettable casualty. Mission success relies upon a full strength team; please stand by as a replacement clone is activated and dispatched to your location.

Have an enjoyable day in Alpha Complex.”

…Beyond his words and those of the Computer, the next ten minutes passes in a silence as absolute as ever may have been possible in Alpha Complex. At the point where Ammpe had decided that he was actually enjoying the quiet, the same door from which Blowz-2 had emerged some short time ago opened and Brighte’s replacement clone was ushered into the corridor…

"What did you troubleshooters do to the lights?" one of the Vultures demand, not bothering to wait for, let alone listen to, any responses that might have been made. Instead, the Vulture Squad did what they were designed to do, scavenging the personal effects from the dead clone and transferring them to it’s replacement before disappearing back through the doorway from whence they came.

"Why is it so dark in here,” Brighte-R-NNU-2 queried once the Vultures were gone, “Maybe someone should take a look at the power couplings and see if there is anything wrong.  I can be a stool if needed." 

It was all Ammpe could do to stifle the chuckle that threatened to escape him, then, and, hopefully, any bit of it that might have escaped was masked or muffled by Steam’s response to Brighte2’s suggestion; “That's how your first clone kicked it, Morale officer, though your first idea wasn't so bad.

Team Leader,” Steam continued through the dark, “I suggest we do as Brighte said before and all line up behind you, holding on to each other and head down the rest of the way together, sir. I'm comfortable leading the way too, if you want. I have experience in these exact situations.”

Ammpe nodded and, perhaps, sighed at the recommendation. “I suppose so,” he drawled, “checking the power conduits didn’t seem to help, at all, did it? All we can do, then, is carry on as you suggest.” He fumbled in the dark for a moment, checking to make sure that his hammer and other gear were all still in place, then continued. “Steam, as you have said that you have experience in these situations, I accept your volunteering to lead us to the designated briefing point. I’ll follow behind you and everyone else line up behind me. Let’s hope we have no further delays.”

Brighte 2 volunteering to be a step stool has me dying of laughter! Awesome play, Keeper!

P.S. Hoping to have a post for our clueless leader up shortly.

It's about time you got off yer fluffy butt and hauled it back in here!!!

*FAAAAACCCCCEEEELIIIIIIIIIIIIIIICK!!!!*

Welcome back! Nice to see old yet familiar faces popping back up!

Welcome back, bud! 

Welcome to the Inn!

The only game that I know for certain looking for players at the moment is Paranoia (click here to see the recruitment thread)

That said, I'm sure that other games will be sprouting up and, there may be other games looking already and I'm just not aware of them. Is there anything in particular you're looking for? D&D, Pathfinder, something a bit funkier?

You're Mottle???

Dude!!!

...I just realized that I didn't get an e-mail.

Is that because I'm here, like, all the darn time or what?

Should I be offended? It is the millineal generation, after all... I dunno!

Somebody make Uncle Eol some coffe so he'll shut up!

But that's more a psychological thing as opposed to physical so.... *shrugs* ... Take it as you will.

Ch'dau would implicitly agree with all of this! ^^^

Aside from the day-to-day life-or-death attitude of the Kazari, I think, their next most important precept is honor. The "honorable" thing to do, in this case, is to see to it that all of the zombies in Crandel are exterminated. Anything and everything (minus Kith's safety) is secondary at best. He'll trust the town watch to do as he's instructedd (especially considering the "bribe" that was hafted earlier) and that Atharis' body will be appropriately and "respectfully" looted, per the Circle and individual attitudes, of course.

He's paid his respects and borne his companions' blood as tribute; the kazari is still in bloodlust mode, as far as I'm concerned, and, to him, hunting down and mincing the stragglers sounds really, really good!

Off to walk the dog! I'll be back!

Hey, Innmates! Olan and I are malingering in the chat room.... Come and see us... supplies are limited but we'd love to see you!

Looking forward to it BV!

Well... I see Padre in the Online Members list and I can't say I've seen his handle up there in a while... sooooo... maybe? *crosses fingers*

Gosh, there are several "old faces" that I'd dearly love to see hereabouts again... Scarab... Meri... Yana... Ion... GreyGrey... so, so many... this nostalgia is making my eyes leak.

EDIT: Either that e-mail is working or there are several folks logging in at random after some lengthy away time out of coincidence!

Hello, adiw, and Tawnos76! *wavity-wave-wave-ka-jingle-pounce-faaaaaacelick!*