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Rune Jolara

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Posts posted by Rune Jolara


  1. ((The Queen’s Studio, The Imperial Palace - Irvaytho Proper, Losaria))
    ((Time Index: Thirty minutes before the crew’s arrival in Royal Court
    ))

    ::Normally, Enora found the snowfall that floated through the air just beyond her balcony a delightful sight and a welcome distraction from the work of a head of state. Instead the vast cityscape accumulating a light coating of snow went unnoticed. Her eyes were fixed on the Editorial Page of The New Glacell Gazette. Specifically the full-page opinion piece titled “A Child on the Throne”. Nearly six months into her reign, and they still questioned whether or not she could rule. All that the press had wished to discuss was the fact that she still had three years of courses left at the Royal Academy or to speculate which senior official in her court was the real head of state. The successful new infrastructure initiative or the increased trade with the Kavolians didn’t seem to mean anything. An opinion piece published by a famed professor of political studies was just the newest insult to her rule.::

    ::She angrily pitched the paper over the railing and watched it fall. The newspaper stopped once it reached the invisible security screen projected around the balcony and slowly disintegrated as energy flowed through the fragile paper. Enora took one last look around the historic heart of Irvaytho where her palace sat before turning around and returning to her studio where her assistant Ailre was waiting with a data pad and an ornate metal box.::

    Ailre: ::Reading the frustrated expression she was wearing:: The article in the Gazette?

    ::Ailre had previously been a senior advisor to Enora’s mother before she became ill and died. For as long as she had been present for meetings of the Royal Court at her mother’s side, Ailre had always been there to give advice and make complex issues seem simple with his explanations of mundane topics like education funding reform or the electrical delivery system for Losaria. Sometimes the former admiral was a bit too good at reading her emotions.::

    Glynndor: Yes, the article in the Gazette! Does it matter that I spent years observing court functions during my mother’s reign? Do they report about all of the extra courses I have taken in law and economics? No they do not.

    Ailre: Most monarchs have had much more time to prepare for their role. Your mother took the crown when she was almost thirty-four. Someone a third of that age and still in school ruling an interstellar commonwealth does not instill much confidence in the public. It is not fair, but it is the way things are.

    ::Enora sighed and looked at the data pad that Ailre had brought her.::

    Glynndor: Did you bring me the intelligence report about the crew of this alien starship, the Columbia?

    Ailre: Yes ma’am.

    Glynndor: Thank you, Ailre.

    ::She scrolled through the report and looked over what the crew of the Illrith had said. The United Federation of Planets and their ship the Columbia sounded interesting. Nothing like the governments she was used to, but interesting. And the pictures that were sent along didn’t resemble at all the ships of the Royal Navy that she had toured as a child.::

    Glynndor: This meeting will be interesting, to say the least. I want the Diplomatic Corps to put together a list of candidates for ambassador to this United Federation of Planets. Depending on how diplomatic first contact goes, we may wish to establish a permanent connection between this government and our own.

    Ailre: I will see to it at once.

    Glynndor: I assume that the Royal Court has already assembled in the throne room?

    Ailre: Yes. ::Nodding:: I see that you are already wearing most of the traditional apparel.

    ::If nothing else, the traditional robes of the Queen of the Losarian People were comfortable. They were a royal red and lined with fur to help keep warm in the cold climate of Losaria. Over the years there were various sashes, medals, and other adornments added to commemorate events in Losarian history. She had donned the elaborate ensemble that a meeting with delegates from a previously unknown species demanded. There was only one thing missing, and it was in the box that Ailre carried.::

    Glynndor: The crown please.

    ::Ailre set the box down on the desk in front of her. Enora reached out and lifted the engraved metal lid of the box. Inside was the Imperial Crown, made for her great-grandmother by a team of artisans to celebrate the 300th anniversary of the Imperial Losarian Commonwealth’s establishment. It still looked pristine after all those years. She gently picked them up with her gloved hands and set the crown on her head.::

    ::She turned to look in the mirror. The crown, while it looked beautiful in its special storage box, looked a bit too large for her, as had the robes before they were tailored for her. While her deep blue skin, golden eyes, and long black hair she bore a great resemblance to her mother. Yet Enora was yet to master the look of a monarch comfortable in the ceremonial attire that seem to come naturally to her mother and the kings and queens immortalized in portraits on both walls of the Grand Stairway that all visitors to the palace walked through on their way to the throne room. Enora couldn’t deny that she looked more like a child wearing a royal costume rather than a true head of state. It would take quite a while for her to become comfortable with the royal traditions.::

    Glynndor: We will need to throw banquets and ceremonies more frequently if I am to get used to wearing this. ::Enora reached down and pushed the intercom button on her desk:: Lieutenant Cithro, I will be joining the Royal Court in the throne room shortly. Please ensure our guests are properly searched by security for weapons and escort them to a reception room to wait until we are ready for them.

    ::Enora sank into her chair behind her desk and let out a sigh. Ailre closed the lid of the box and looked at her closely.::

    Ailre: I wouldn’t let the article get you in poor spirits. There were similar critics and detractors during the first year of your mother’s reign.

    Glynndor: You may go now, Ailre. Inform everyone that I will be down shortly.

    ::Ailre walked down the spiral staircase leading to the rest of the palace to organize the members of the Royal Court. Enora looked up at the two portraits that were hanging on the wall to her left. The first was her mother, Queen Falel Glynndor. She looked as confident in her portrait as she always did when dealing with running the Losarian government. If nothing else, most everyone could agree that Enora had one of the best possible teachers in the art of ruling.::

    ::The other portrait was of her namesake, Ambassador Enora Abochiri. She wondered if the ambassador had felt this nervous every time she met a new species. Enora had already made one diplomatic mistake during a state dinner a few weeks earlier. One of the advisors from the Diplomatic Corps and an expert in xenocultural etiquette had spent two hours giving her advice for this initial first contact with representatives from the United Federation of Planets.::

    Gynndor: oO I’ll live up to your examples… some day. Oo

    ::After looking at the portraits for another minute or two, Enora stood up and made her way down the staircase. It was time to make sure all of the preparations were in place for the meeting.::

     

    Queen Enora Glynndor
    Her Imperial Majesty The Queen of the Losarian People, Empress of the Commonwealth, and  Honorable Sovereign of Irvaytho
    Imperial Losarian Commonwealth

    ===as simmed by===

    Lieutenant Commander Anath G'Renn
    Chief Medical Officer/Second Officer, USS Columbia
    A239402AG0

    • Like 2

  2. ((Holodeck, USS Columbia))

    ::The cold night air bit at the few areas of skin exposed to it as the pin[...]s of light continued their trek across the sky, oblivious to the scattered movements far below. Gusts drove whispers through the trees, sending darkened leaves into a frenzied dance as they rushed to escape the icy fingers of the darkness. Silent bootsteps fell between the equally feverish swirls of grass blades, giving the impression of dark waves moving swiftly across the land.::

    ::In the distance, the singular call of a wolf rang out into the night, howling at a non-existent moon with a mournful feel that traveled for miles. The horizon, dotted by white-capped mountain peaks by day, became a darkened sea of green-turned-black in the dark of midnight, hazily fading land into sky.::

    ::Despite the chill, droplets of sweat poured down the hooded face as small clouds of breath found manifestation in the night air. Steadily they came, in time with the footfalls that made no noise, allowing the emergence of a rhythm that could only be described as life. As a heartbeat, one foot hit the ground before the other, one breath hit the air before another, over and over again.::

    ::Then, the grass came to an end.::

    ::The whispers of the night’s wind remained behind him as he looked out into an even darker pool before him. Everything changed when twilight came for it. The robust greens of the world darkened into greys and blacks with little depth, while the black of Hell’s Half Acre became ever darker and ever more the stuff of nightmares. It was on its edge he now stood, as if standing on the edge of the pit of emptiness.::

    ::Having stopped, the temperature finally caught up with him. Drenched from the long run, the wind cut deeper and sent more than a single chill through his bones. Nodding to no one but himself, he took a deep breath and launched forward into the lava fields knowing full well what he was getting into. And just as he had more times than he could count as a teen, Vincent began his trek across the sharp, glassy rocks that had long ago transcended time itself.::

    ::The uneven ground presented a difficult path by day, rocky, sharp, and unforgiving in the heat of the midday sun. By night, when the lack of human-capable vision in the dark became his biggest weakness, the path grew downright treacherous. Sudden steps, sideways rocks, sharp outcroppings that seemingly didn’t belong, and a definitive lack of anything plainly horizontal made for a challenge well beyond that any obstacle course could. More than once he’d suffered cuts and bruises, sprains and broken bones, among the dark rocks.::

    ::But that had never stopped him.::

    ::Like so many nights before, the ex-Marine pushed himself. Faster, harder, further; the dark shades of the leaves, and the way the wind moved through them, were left in the distance like a memory while the basaltic rocks of the ancient lava flow encompassed him completely.::

    ::Above, the even more ancient points of light dotted across the sky paid no attention at all to the man, nor the haunting past that chased him across the rocks far below.::

    TBC

    CWO 1st Class Vincent ‘Jonesy’ Jones
    Diplomatic Security Specialist/SFMC Counter-Intelligence
    USS Columbia

    As simmed by:

    Lieutenant Commander Ash MacKenna
    Chief Science Officer
    USS Columbia

    R238605KN0

     
    • Like 4

  3. We don't do joint posts during training but once you're assigned to a ship, we love joint posts but mostly during shore-leave. Very few, if any are done during missions as things need to move at a good pace. You can ask whomever you want to do the joint post with, most are happy to do them.

    • Like 2

  4. (( USS Blackwell - Deck 4 - Captain's Quarters ))

    ((Time Index: Shortly after Theo's writes a letter to his mother as seen in 'Letters Home'))
     
    ::The Blackwell glided through space at warp, every second bringing it closer it destination: the planet Arndall. What awaited the crew there nobody could know for sure but had Theo been a betting man, he would surely wager nothing good. The Valcarians and the Caraadians' Cold War was in imminent danger of heating up and Starfleet wanted the Andaris Task Force to step in before anything could happen. Had Arndall been located anywhere else, Theo would likely now be deep into negociations- however, this was the Par'tha Expanse and it's "unique properties" meant that navigating was difficult at the best of times.::
     
    ::As he sat watching the stars streak by, he felt his mind wandering. Once more, he found himself wanting to pinch himself. The Blackwell was his ship. What sort of Commanding Officer would he turn out to be? Fair and just? Authouritation? Would he be a father figure to the officers and enlisted personnel he commanded? He knew that his mother would insist that he was born to do this and that he would make a fine CO, but part of him believed that she was expected to say that. Typical mothering behaviour. For the first time in a good while, he turned his thoughts to his father... even now in death, he was likely watching his son with intense disapproval.::
     
    ::Josiah Whittaker had never planned for his only child to enter Starfleet. No, he had been adamant even before Theo had been born that he was to follow him into a life of academia and research on Archer IV, their homeworld. Just as his father had done before. And his before him. And so it went on. Whittaker's were academics and had been for hundreds of years. They revelled in their eloquence and their outdated opinions on class and stature. Theo had never been interested in such a life, driven by an insatiable wanderlust. The galaxy fascinated him, technology had held him in a spell since he was a small child and no amount of lectures and studying enforced by his father could alter that.::
     
    ::The day of their estrangement, when Theo had finally broken free of Josiah's oppressive shackles, was still crystal clear in Theo's memory. He could recall every last detail of that fateful moment. It was the last time he had seen his father.::
     
    (( Archer IV - Whittaker Manor - 12 years previously )) 
     
     J. Whittaker: You step out of that door and you will never be welcomed here again. 
     
    ::The crisp morning air held a chill, but not one comparable to the one that had descended up on the entrance hall of their home. Josiah bore down on Theo from the grand stair case with a cold fury in his eyes. Five years of acrimonious words and threats had now come down to this. No longer could Theo deny what he wanted to do. Academia be damned.::
     
    ::The sixteen year old  looked up at his father, who had now reached the bottom step of the staircase, looking at him with a deadly honesty. There was no doubt that Josiah Whittaker meant what he had said. Anybody else would have paused for thought, but Theo wasn't anybody. They had similar discussions over their difficult, acrimonious history. And now Theo was weary. He had had enough.:: 
     
    T. Whittaker: ::he made no effort to hide the weariness from his voice. He wanted his father to know that he had, finally, had enough.:: Goodbye father.
     
     ::He turned and reached for the door handle, pulling the massive oak door open with a sharp pull.:: 
     
     J. Whittaker: Theo!
     
    :: Theo hesitated for a moment, thinking that he could detect a rising panic within his father's words. His mind told him not to turn but his heart told him otherwise- and so Theo, always one to lead with his emotions, stopped and looked at his father. Cold fury had been replaced by a look of abject desperation. In that moment, Theo knew that his father understood how perilously close he was coming to losing his only child. It was, in a way, morbidly fascinating to behold. He had never seen this side of his father, who had spent his life being as uptight and reserved as he could. At times, Josiah could put a Vulcan to shame with his laser-precision focus and drive.::
     
    ::And then the moment passed- and the desperation was gone, replaced once more with anger. There was a solemn nod from his father, who looked upon his son with contempt.::
     
    J. Whittaker: Then so be it. I no longer have a son.
     
    ::If the words had been design to wound Theo, they failed to do so. So tired of their arguments and the tension between the two of them, the sixteen year old simply shook his head and sighed and walked out in to the crisp morning air. He walked down the gravelled path where the Starfleet Type-8 shuttle waited beyond the pretentious and elaborate gates. His father wanted him to be an academic, like generations had been before him. But Theo, never one to stand on history, had to chart his own path. Even if that cost him a relationship with his father. Starfleet Academy- and the future awaited ::
     
    (( USS Blackwell - Deck 4 - Captain's Quarters - Stardate 239412.07))
     
    ::Twelve years had passed since that awful morning and it's after effects still lingered with Theo. Had he been right to chart his own course? Of course- he had no doubt about that. But could he have made more of an effort to reconcile with his father in his last years? The answer was simple: Yes.::
     
    ::Theo had not seen or spoken to his father since that day, even when Josiah had been stricken with the terminal and incurable Meenok's Disease. He had been to the funeral, of course, but his father had chosen not to have an open casket. Neither of them, in his final months- much to the pain of his mother- had been willing to let the barriers down and make amends. It was childish on both of their parts, Theo could see that now.::
     
    ::The guilt of their estrangement had haunted Theo and he believed that it always would. There was no easy answer, no solution. He simply had to live with what he had done... and hope that he had become a better person in the intervening years....::
     
    --
    Commander Theo Whittaker
    Commanding Officer
    USS Blackwell
    NCC 58999
    Andaris Task Force
    C239203TW0
    • Like 3

  5. ((USS Blackwell, Corridors))

    ::The stars rushing by seemed so close, as if she could just reach her hand beyond the transparent aluminum and grab one. It was a testiment to just how humanity had interjected itself into what was once untouchable. Space, the stars, heck, even Earth’s own moon was once out of reach. And then one day, someone dared to change that.::

    ::In a single decade, and with a single step, humanity had set foot on another world. Sure, it was ‘just the moon’, but for the people of that time period, it had been impossible up until it suddenly wasn’t.::

    ::Not long after, it became apparent that man could reach further. A permanent space station was put into orbit around the planet, and then robots stretched out to Mars. Someone even put what they had known as a car in orbit of the red planet. Why? Because they could, and at that point in Earth’s history, that was a huge statement. Why do anything?::

    ::Because you can.::

    ::Technology sped up fairly quickly after that, and before too long, humanity had found the key to interstellar travel. Warp capabilities changed the entire fabric of time and suddenly all that had been impossible simply wasn’t anymore. Humanity was no longer alone in the universe and there was more than just solid proof. The beings from those other worlds, previously held only in the dreams of those who did things just because they could, were standing right there.::

    ::And so, time marched on, technology advanced, and eventually it all led to this moment. This moment was one eventuality of time and experience, particles coalesced into a being that had taken the form of a misunderstood and lost ambassador with thigh-length raven-black hair, crystalline blue eyes, and an almost porcelain appearance, who found herself simply staring into space.::

    ::Literally.::

    ::Now aboard the Blackwell, Kali continued to make the role her own. Technically out, but not out, of Starfleet’s command structure, as ‘Ambassador’ she enjoyed freedoms that she exercised if only to maintain some form of control of her world. She wasn’t out there blazing trails anymore, or commanding starships in unimaginable situations. No longer did she fly anything other than a desk, so when she could ‘break’ all the rules of Starfleet, she did.::

    ::Hair down? As an Ambassador, certainly, even if it did get in her way. Ambassadorial looks? Pffft. What even was that? The robes and garb of others were reserved for the rare instances where business must be conducted. Any other time she was perfectly content either in uniform, or as she was now, in black marine cargos and an old, well worn Marines t-shirt.::

    ::Did it make up for how much her life had changed? Perhaps not, but then again, her life existed mostly in the lost and faded instincts and few memories she had. Slowly, ever so slowly, she was regaining more than what her logs had told her about her life before the Scar, but she still felt somewhat disconnected. ::

    ::But no one would know it. Not even those closest to her, and here, they were far, far away.::

    ::The voices of others in the corridor brought her back to the moment, and before her eyes she could once again see just how close the stars were.::

    TBC

    Fleet Captain Kalianna Nicholotti
    Ambassador at Large
    Andaris Task Force

    As simmed by:

    Lieutenant Commander Cayden Adyr
    Chief Intelligence Officer
    Andaris Task Force

    R238605KN0

    • Like 4
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