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Idril Mar

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Everything posted by Idril Mar

  1. Yup... most the sims in both of these polls were from the Ronin.
  2. I have to say that I voted against myself in one of the current rounds. There was some good ones... all of them seemed very familiar in that second set, though.
  3. Ditto! Once I started reading the other stories, I realized I probably wasn't gonna win this time around.
  4. Having judged and entered a few times, it usually is at least a couple weeks before the results are out.
  5. This one is a big challenge for the judges, since there's no formal topic per say,except 'short'. I tried to incorporate that feeling of time into mine, but we'll see what happens.
  6. A scream of pain, not physical but just as harsh, crawled up his throat and burst from his lips like a Gnenllian heart worm. Emotions, roiling, broke over him, overwhelming, drowning all logic, then reason, then function; sweet quiet darkness claimed him at last. A Few Weeks Later… The young man’s eyes fluttered open. A nurse was at the bedside and put the PADD down on the small table when she realized he was waking up. “Wha… what happened? Where am I?” said the man. The nurse smiled a sad smile. “You’re at the Starfleet Medical Facility at Starbase 1. You were seriously injured in the action at Rourkeen’s Drift. Do you remember anything?” A hand went up to the short-cropped hair on the man’s head. The arm of his medical gown slid up revealing the anchor and flag of the Starfleet Marine Corps, with the legendary Semper Fi motto, short for Semper Fidelus, Latin for “Always Faithful.” “No… I don’t remember. In fact, I don’t remember anything. What’s my name… who am I?” The man’s face went quickly from puzzlement to agitation, as it almost always did. A meaty fist slammed into the bed-sheets. “Why can’t I remember?!?” The nurse decided against calling security… this time. She sat down on the edge of the bed and put a slim hand on his arm. “Your name is James Adendorff. You are a First Lieutenant in the Starfleet Marine Corps.” “James… Adendorff …” The name didn’t ring any bells for him, but the feel of in his mouth was… familiar somehow, almost like something that is right on the edge of your tongue or the shadow of a dream, running from the light of wakefulness. He shook his head, clearly frustrated. “I can’t remember.” “Don’t worry, Lieutenant, it’ll come back on its own. It always does. Come on, let’s see about getting you up and out of this bed.” Over the next few hours, the doctors came and examined him. He had suffered a head wound with extensive neurological trauma and shock. His memories would likely come back, but it might be a while. He should focus on trying to get back into shape physically for a while. They would schedule him for a follow-up with a counselor to work on the memory loss. Over the next few days, he remembered small things. His wife’s name, Heather… the faces of his parents… his childhood pet. The nurse, it turned out, was his wife. James had been happy when he found that out; he had hoped there was a good reason that she seemed to dote on him a little more than the other patients… well, that and he thought she was really hot. “We met… we met in a bar, didn’t we?” “That’s right… do you remember where?” “A big red bridge, with cables. There was a bay… you could see it from the front of the bar.” “That’s San Francisco, right. That’s great, James!” Heather gave him a squeeze as she helped him walking down the support bars, getting his strength back. Over the next few weeks, he saw a counselor, helping him work on the memories that were tantalizingly close, and sort out the ones that had come back. He know remembered deploying on the USS Nautilus, though anything after they left Earth was still beyond him. About 6 weeks after he woke up, James was sitting in the counselor’s office, working through what he did remember, trying out some craniosacral therapeutic techniques, something popped inside of the Marine’s mind. Everything came rushing back… …the frantic deployment of his platoon as the Nautilus was hit multiple times in orbit by enemy fire… …the night, black as coal and as hot as Hell itself, with only the flash of weapons’ fire lighting it… …the death, so much death and in so many blood-spattered ways all around him, over him, through him, because of him… …Because Of Him… …BECAUSE OF HIM… A scream of pain, not physical but just as harsh, crawled up his throat and burst from his lips like a Gnenllian heart worm. Emotions, roiling, broke over him, overwhelming, drowning all logic, then reason, then function; sweet quiet darkness claimed him at last. ----- A Few Weeks Later… The young man’s eyes fluttered open. A nurse was at the bedside and put the PADD down on the small table when she realized he was waking up. “Wha… what happened? Where am I?” said the man. The nurse smiled a sad smile. “You’re at the Starfleet Medical Facility at Starbase 1. You were seriously injured in the action at Rourkeen’s Drift. Do you remember anything?” ----- Not the End
  7. If we couldn't refer to the canon characters at all, there wouldn't be much we could do, would there? "Ooops, we can't visit DS9, because that's in the canon. Sorry!" Its just writing yourself into the canon, like being on Riker's team, that is an issue.
  8. Typically, the winner will pick the subject for the next challenge. Jenn
  9. “Surf’s Up” Sometimes it takes a mental cleansing to regain and retain our sanity. Some people go running, other find solace in a good book, while others, such as the character in this story, find it challenging Mother Nature with a wooden board. I know personally that in all of there is a little boy or girl aching to come out and this story shows that well. My concern is twofold: first, the author would have done well to proofread one or more times before posting this story. Second, this sort of venting is almost adult in its maturity. Even with both of those points in consideration, it is an excellent story.
  10. “Idol” This story is a Ferengi commercial for an action figure, the “Action Fleet Supreme Commander 'Wipe 'em down' 'Your Money or Your Life' Acquisition Trooper Eternal.” While it seems to be that this might make a good advertisement, bringing to mind the cartoon series “Super Robot Monkey Team Hyper-Force Go,” it is also not really a story.
  11. This thread is ONLY for moderators to post their feedback as they write it. All other posts will be DELETED. Remember: you are under no obligation to accept or follow the feedback provided. It is only provided as a courtesy to challenge participants, and only reflects the personal opinion of the person writing it. If you don't like the feedback, we don't want to hear about it -- just close the thread and move on. PS: I have been told I'm a little blunt at times... please don't take any feedback as anything but my honest opinion!
  12. Well, considering, it might be an appropriate comment.
  13. John? Have ya changed ya name then? Been writing in alternate characters too much I think. JENN
  14. Typically... even by people who say they aren't gonna enter. *looks at Salak*
  15. Bump. This post is now complete. -- Jenn
  16. This is a good example of explaining something with a sim from an inanimate object. Sometimes there aren't any characters able to see what's going on in the background and a sim like this can push the plot without having to have a new character in the mix. Plus, sometimes its just fun to have objects talk. "If these old walls could talk..."
  17. : The Inn had stood on this spot for generations of the lives of men and witnessed many things over the years. All the pathos that constitutes life had been played out in her rooms and hallways. Most happenings pasted in the flicker of a barely remembered dream. She did remember with affection some of the staff who had looked after her over the decades. In a blink of time the mighty Oaks in the forecourt had grown from saplings into mature trees. The passing of time was like an endless song. The seasons rolling past, the murmur of the wind and the migration of the birds were her constant companions. Sometimes the intensity of the lives of those who visited her caused her to remember them. Such a time was unfolding now down on the ground floor in one of the refurbished meeting rooms. The raging of emotions and the strange tingling of previously unknown energies captured her attention. Suddenly a great pain speared through her. Not comprehending the concept of phased energy she felt as if someone had struck her innards with a dagger. She had witnessed that happen once many years ago. At first although painful the damage seemed limited to the roof and a chandelier. In a few moments she realised that it was much worse. The energy had pierced her all the way through and out the roof. Ancient wooden support beams began to give way. Walls started to buckle and crack. In a panic she realised that the heat from the blast had passed close to cleaning storage cupboard on the second floor. The cleaning chemicals had been superheated and burst into flames. The explosion that resulted blew the door out and flames spread quickly into the hall way. Beautifully replicated wall paper ignited engulfing the entire floor in flames. Realisation that the end was near brought a feeling of sadness. Still she would do what she could to save her guests and caretakers. She activated her sprinkler systems [...]ing the flames with water. As the pain intensified she struggled to release the magnetic locks managing to close all her fire doors and sound the evacuation alarm. Her entire centre was engulfed in flames. As her funeral pyre raged a life that no one had ever suspected existed faded away. As awareness failed her last thoughts were strangely joyful… where was she going to.. what lay in wait beyond this darkness?
  18. It certainly does, Toni, and thanks for the congrats. I didn't think I'd win.
  19. Ok, is anyone else antsy to hear how they did?
  20. Ok, short, but to the point. A slightly odd take on the topic, but appropriate I think as well.
  21. It had all happened so fast. The young jaygee sat in the escape pod all by himself, just thinking over the happenings of the day before. His ship, the Sabre-class Wildcat, had been on a routine patrol near the Bajoran Badlands. They had been jumped by a pair of Jem'Hadar attack cruisers. The Captain had ordered the ship into the Badlands, trying to shake the attacking Dominion vessels, but to no avail. They were forced to turn and fight. The battle was sharp but the conclusion was predictable from the beginning. The Wildcat had been lost with all hands. All hands but one, Scott Grissam thought to himself. Now here I am, stuck in the wandering storms of the Badlands, with no hope of rescue and not even anyone to share my misery with. The pod started shaking and a hard crack on the hull brought his stomach up into his throat. For a moment, the human was worried that his pod was caught up in an asteroid field or something and he was about to be battered to death. Not that it would be any worse, really than the long lingering death he was looking forward to at the moment. A rhythmic pounding began on the outside, sparking hope in Scott. A moment later the hatch popped open, revealing not the hard cold vacuum of space but a pair of toothily grinning Klingon warriors. "Ah, the little human is still in one piece!" the first one exclaimed, showing an honest pleasure at the sight of the battered and dirty Starfleet officer. "Come on out of there, human, and let us look at you." "My pleasure," Scott said, gladly dragging himself out of the pod and into the Klingon shuttlebay. "What is your name, Starfleet?" the other Klingon asked. "Lieutenant jg. Scott Grissam, Tactical Officer, USS Wildcat," the young man responded. "We got jumped by a couple of attack ships and I was the only survivor." The Klingons nodded, appropriate concern seeming to cross their faces. "I am sure your compatriots died with much honor, Scott Grissam," the first Klingon smiled and clapped him on the back. "I am Lieutenant K'tak son of K'tar, and this is Sub-lieutenant Marketh, son of Kargeth. You are aboard the IKS K'elmpek. Come, we will take you to the Sickbay and then we will show you what true Klingon hospitality is all about!" The way the two hulking aliens broke out into deep booming laughs, compounded by the rumors he had heard at the Academy about Klingon medicine, made Scott look back at his escape pod wistfully. Maybe sitting in there hadn't been such a bad thing after all. A day later, the K'elmpek was still on patrol. The Wildcat's tactical officer had found out that they were out hunting for Cardassian ships that sometimes attacked from the cover of the plasma storms. They had destroyed one already, what appeared to be an older Cardassian cruiser. Scott had wondered a bit why such a junker had been out on its own in a combat zone, but dismissed it. The Sickbay had been as close to a chamber of horrors as he ever wanted to come. His bumps and bruises didn't warrant anything so fancy as a dermal regenerator, so he got a foul smelling salve rubbed into his skin by a Klingon nurse who could've done double duty as a member of the women's weight lifting team back home. Rolling his shoulders, he thought that he might actually get *more* bruises from that treatment than it was supposed to get rid of. On the whole, though, despite being rough and boisterous, the human felt at home. The Klingons were hearty eaters, if it was a bit odd food wise, liberal with their humor and with their fighting, and intense in their dedication to their cause. It was all a refreshing change, he thought as he hit the hot bunk just vacated by an officer going on duty, from the cool professionalism of a Starfleet vessel. What seemed like a moment later, the ship rocked violently, throwing Grissam to the deck. Red tinged emergency lighting showed an empty room. He scrambled out into the hallway. "What's going on?!?" he yelled to a passing Klingon crewman. "Three Cardassians... this is indeed a good day to die!" a heavy slap on the back and a toothy grin was the response. Three Cardassian cruisers? Scott thought to himself. Against one Bird of Prey? There was bravery and then there was folly and he had a strong suspicion that this was the latter. The Starfleet officer wanted to help, but had not gotten any sort of duty assignment; he was a guest of the Empire, after all, not a member of the crew. He made his way to the one place he could think of that would be completely out of the way of everyone: his escape pod from the Wildcat. Emerging onto the relative calm of the small shuttlebay, he thought for a moment. The pod was comforting, a link to his lost comrades. Grissam climbed into the pod and strapped in, less for any sort of safety than for a feeling of being where he was supposed to be, where he was out of the way. A crash from outside brought him out of his thoughts. A tangle of debris fell down onto the pod, slamming the door shut. Before he could unbuckle and try to get back out a huge explosion rocked the whole vessel and a fireball blew everything and everyone in the bay out into space. "Oh no... not again..." the tactical officer thought to himself. He jumped up and looked out the window, praying that he wouldn't see exactly what he saw. The Bird of Prey was disintegrating into millions of pieces. Scott could do nothing except sink back into the bench and hope that some of his new friends had made it to the escape pods. Another day in the Badlands passed and again, the young man was jolted awake by more shaking and another hard clang on the hull. Again the pod opened, this time revealing the shuttlebay of a Starfleet vessel; it was an Akira-class battlecarrier, from the look of it. "Good to see you in one piece, Lieutenant," a Vulcan woman in a flight deck uniform said. "Are you injured?" He shook his head. "Do you know if any other escape pods, from a Klingon Bird of Prey, have been detected in the area? They picked me up for a day but got attacked by some Cardies." An eyebrow went up. "I am unaware of any at this time, but I will inquire. Do you know the name of the ship?" "The K'elmpek. It was an older ship, but they still showed me a good bit of hospitality. I hope to have the chance to return the favor." "Please report to Sickbay. I will arrange for quarters and contact you when I have more information on the Klingon vessel." The Vulcan turned her back and walked off. Scott sighed. Back into the grind of things, I guess, he thought to himself. A couple hours later and he was resting alone in borrowed quarters when the door beeped. Who could that be? "Come!" A Lieutenant Commander from Operations walked in. Scott stood and snapped to attention. "At ease, Lieutenant. You said that the ship who first recovered you was the IKS K'elmpek, correct?" "Yes... did you find anyone?" "No, and I doubt we will. The only vessel by that name was reported lost with all hands more than fifteen years ago."
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