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Idril Mar

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Everything posted by Idril Mar

  1. 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..."
  2. : 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?
  3. It certainly does, Toni, and thanks for the congrats. I didn't think I'd win.
  4. Maybe I'm selfish, but I like feedback.
  5. Ok, is anyone else antsy to hear how they did?
  6. Ok, short, but to the point. A slightly odd take on the topic, but appropriate I think as well.
  7. 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."
  8. I think I'll write one in here too... just a matter of getting the time to get it down on paper... or computer... you know.
  9. *takes nobody's hand and just shakes* Surprising how a good shake can be therapeutic.
  10. **puts on moderator hat** I would ask everyone to try to keep in mind that this is a game, a friendly one at that, and to not let your own attitudes or tempers get in the way of your or anyone else's fun. **takes off moderator hat** Now, I actually agree with Salak that I will not submit my own sims in any regard. I'd like it if other people had the same sensibility as I did, but... *shrug* we're all different.
  11. Here's the link to the winning sim from the last contest. Due to a system issue, we lost all the other sims. http://www.starbase118.net/members/events/...s/jan-feb03.php Jenn
  12. What does utopian furniture look like, anyway, Kai? At any rate, though, I'd like to see a Romulan Wars movie...
  13. I guess it depends on whether you want a call from Sickbay or a kick in the ribs while you're down on the deck, there, Ben. Honestly, though... I never really found a plot with mine... I knew I didn't have a chance, since my submission was not very cohesive at all.
  14. Very nice. Congrats. It feels good to lose occasionally as well. Jenn
  15. I don't know about the bulkhead... that is weird come to think of it. Maybe it was a leverage thing?
  16. If the judges hold to pattern, the new challenge should be up sometime in the middle of next month or so. Jenn
  17. ((In Orbit)) "The course is laid in and locked. In fifteen minutes, the ship will fire its engines, shutting them off ten minutes later, then..." The lieutenant at the helm trailed off, swiveling in her chair to look back at her commanding officer, Admiral Keratch, the only other person on the bridge. The older man nodded, understanding the emotion rippling through the woman's voice, catching in her throat. This was a short-sighted decision, one that the whole world would likely regret sooner than later, but orders were orders. He stood up, running a loving hand along the manala-wood armrest of the Captain's chair. "Well, Lieutenant, say goodbye to her then... we'll not see her like again for a long time." “Probably not in our lifetimes, sir, no… and that’s what worries me. This isn’t a good decision. We shouldn’t…” The old man cut her off. “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that, Ms Nom.” He continued, understanding her position and let the harsh edge drain out of his voice. “We have our orders… let’s get down to the shuttle-bay and go home.” The two walked back to the elevator and the Admiral, taking a last look at the ship that had been his command for the last fifteen years, issued his last order aboard his bridge. “Main Shuttlebay.” ----- ((Trill Senate Chambers)) The mood in the chambers was tense; there had been high emotions, with accusations and yelling flying about in both directions. The murders.... no, the genocide that had occurred on Kurl was necessary, yes. The parasites, called such because no one could bring themselves to say out loud that those destructive insane creatures had once been Joined Trill and symbionts, needed to be destroyed; that everyone agreed on. There was no way that they could be allowed to move out into the galaxy with the hatred that they harbored for the Trill. The arguments were over what should be done now... the current debate was over appropriations for the deep-space navy, the very instrument that had deployed the firebombs and the biogenic weapons on Kurl. "We should not be in space! It risks the purity of our race and the safety of the symbionts... the legacy of our people! What would we do if something like were to happen again?" "It won't so long as we remember and learn from this mistake. We cannot retreat from this exploration... to do so is to dishonor the memories of those that died on Kurl in so much pain!" ----- The doors slid shut on the two Trill officers and the lift started moving down through the bowels of the ship towards the large hanger-deck where only one shuttle remained -- their own. "Permission to speak freely, sir?" The admiral looked at the young woman. He knew exactly what she was going to say. He even agreed with it. However, there was nothing either of them could do. With a deep sigh, he nodded. "Go ahead, Lieutenant." "Think of all the things we'll be giving up when this ship goes into the sun. Interstellar travel is not the only thing we'll lose... contact with other cultures, scientific exchanges..." "Not to mention other things like defense from hostile races and early warning of impending threats from asteroids and the like... I know, maybe better than you, all that we are giving up, Lieutenant. Trust me, I do. Unfortunately, I can't fund the fleet out of my pocket and, with the politicians and their minds made up, no matter how short-sighted they are being, we can only follow orders." They stepped out into the cavernous hanger deck of the ship. This had been a heavy carrier, the flagship of the fleet, with four full wings of shuttles and attack craft that flew from its decks. No more... all those vehicles had either been scuttled or converted for strictly atmospheric use. There would be no reprieve here. Their shuttle, the only one, sat like a large frog, waiting to run them back to the ground and the rest of their lives'. Nothing more passed between them except the quiet echoing of their footsteps. ----- "Since the body has decided that there will be no appropriation to the maintenance or the staffing of the interstellar fleet, the chair will entertain suggestions as to the fleet's fate." ----- The admiral looked up from the console to the looming ship in the shuttle’s side window. Nom could not face the thought of losing her place in space. She had chosen to stay behind, to commit suicide by staying aboard a doomed ship rather than lose that place. He respected her, and after locking the ship’s course with his own command codes, had given her permission to stay. Squinting as the ship’s sublight engines flashed into life for the last time, he watched as the giant slid slowly into the blackness of space, headed towards its rendezvous with the sun. With a deep sigh, he turned back to the console and the blue-green marble below that was his home. ----- The fire burned long into the dark night and the morning brought no relief to the suffering. Such was the fall of civilization... such was the price of forgetting. The cities, nearly all of them, were burning. The few remaining would soon, too, be caught up in the conflagration. This destruction, much like that which rained down on Kurl, came from the sky, but this struck an unsuspecting and unprepared planet. The small comet had been investigated after it had stuck a remote region of the southern continent, flattening a forest with its impact. The destruction not withstanding, one person had been killed, mercifully, by the actual strike, nothing like the possible destruction that could've happened had a planet-killing asteroid hit rather than the dirty snowball. That snowball, however, carried with it something far more insidious than the asteroid’s overt power. The first to die were the investigators, the scientists who had shared samples of the material across the planet with the first week or so. They began falling, dropping suddenly like puppets whose strings had been cut. The virus, at least they assumed it was a virus, spread across the planet like wildfire, killing and destroying, with the survivors causing more panic and more destruction in their manic desire to survive. Civilization came to an end... and as the years stretched into centuries, the centuries into eons, even the symbionts began to forget. The ones who remembered grew beyond Joining, retreated into the caves of Mak'relle Dur, the semi-mythical afterlife where the Oldest symbionts, the Annuated, nearly immortal as they were, collected the memories of the world. New symbionts were born, Joined, and remembered new things as civilizations rose and fell on the surface. Though the old ones remembered, lost from the surface world was the time of Trill's first warp ventures. ----- The small boarding party had slipped into the huge derelict by way of what seemed to be a hanger-deck. Scans of the scarred and pock-marked hull told them that this ship was over five millennia old, stretching further back than any current records on Trill, at least the public ones anyway. They made their way to the bridge, trying to find some trace of the origins of this ship, found orbiting Trill’s sun on the far side from Trill itself, hidden for the eons by the star’s body itself from the planet’s view. When they got there, a grisly sight met them: a skeleton, seated at what appeared to be the helm, with another smaller, non-humanoid skeleton nestled in its pelvis. “Oh gods… I think this is a Trill.”
  18. Ok, looks like Piet got most of them... First Contact with the Klingons is in the books as I remember, which aren't considered canon. They fixed the Vulcan issue in the 4th season bby changing the way that Vulcans lead their lives of 'logic.' So yes, they were wrong, but no, this was explained and tied in. As for the Klingons being so close to Earth... the Enterprise A makes it to the center of the galaxy in a simular amount of time... this is often explained by a warp highway. Why is it out of the realm of logic that there could've been one, at least temporarily, between Earth and the Klingon Homeworld? I agree that the 1st two seasons were pretty much a bad lot of writing all around, with a couple minor exceptions. The finale, however, was total lunacy... but that's a different topic. Spock was the first Vulcan who went through the Academy. TPol joined Starfleet, but never went through the Academy. Klingon foreheads were also explained in the 4th season... genetic experiments dealing with the old Eugenics Wars stuff... fun episodes. I have the same complaint about the Akira-prise... though technically that isn't an issue with canon. Who knows? The Akira could've been based on the NX-class... seems logical to me that they'd save time when designing a battlecruiser to fight the Borg by going back to an old design that served well.
  19. I'm still not buying the idea that there were major continuity problems related to ENT. There are a few minor ones, but can anyone give me a list of the ones they saw? Jenn
  20. Spock was the first Vulcan to go through the Academy. If you remember, T'Pol didn't do that. What are the problems with the timeline, Rhys? Tyr... how much has changed? Give me some examples guys because, right now, I'm not buying it.
  21. Ok... for complaints about ENT, they're in a new topic. Jenn Global Mod
  22. Heaven forbid we get a young character that acts his age. Sorry... I digress. I agree that the vision and writing is very important... but age appeal has to be there as well. Keanu isn't going to be making any remakes of Golden Pond anytime soon, and Glenn Close isn't going to be one of the students in the remake of Harry Potter, either. Jenn
  23. Ok... I may be one of the few that think this, but Enterprise was a good series once they let the writers write the way they wanted to. Third season was a vast improvement over 1&2, and 4 was just that much more improved over 3. Enterprise did nothing to 'ruin' the franchise.' People didn't get exactly what they expected... well tough. Enterprise is canon... deal with it. I don't have a huge love for Berman and Braga, but people who are die-hard fans with their own thoughts about how the pre-TOS history 'should have been' need to understand that your personal vision of it might not have been right... you know? Just because TNG or TOS didn't mention the whole Xindi affair doesn't mean it didn't happen. I don't remember TNG mentioning the Eugenics Wars... or DS9 mentioning... gawd, I'm sure someone can think of an example. Fan history is always a problem when doing pre-quels. Get off it... what's done is done, and UPN as a network is as much or more to blame for it as Berman and Braga. Understand that some of the blame is theirs, some is on UPN, and some is your own if Star Trek takes another 30 year to get back to the small screen... or if it never does. *turns off her rant button* Back on the subject... I think that a new movie with younger people in it might do well. We'll see how it goes. It might have a problem, though, because all of the movies so far had series as background so everyone knew the characters already. Jenn
  24. Well, since you won this time, you have to judge next time. Jenn
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