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Gogigobo Fairhug

Captains Council observer
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Posts posted by Gogigobo Fairhug

  1. Quote

    Wethern: Great caves. Normally lots of things that want to eat you live in caves, or the collapse and you are trapped around a huddled stone heated by phaser fire until you are rescued. ::he paused:: which would be embarrassing as we are the rescue party. Anyway I am off topic. 

    Classic cave scenarios from @Corey Wethern. 😂

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  2. @Sal Taybrim knows how to write a villain. 😈

    ((Hall of the Not-Forgotten, Chief’s Chambers – Secured Location on Byzatium))

    He always walked through the hall of the Not-Forgotten before heading into the stars and going to war.  Here were collected the relics of the honored dead, those who had lost their lives in the never-ending war.

    And that is what life was for him.  War.  Never-ending war.

    It was what he was born into and it was what he would leave this sentient existence desperately clinging onto.  There was no other choice – he could not comprehend a different way of life.  This was life.  Is life.  And someday he hoped he would not be forgotten.

    Rugen picked up a green woven sash, worn by his beautiful Imelnia into battle.  They had fought side by side.  She had born his three children.  She had collapsed in the most beautiful pool of blood that Byzatium had ever seen.  Her belly split open by a charged plasma sword, blood running from her like hot red rivers.

    Dorfmen did not mourn.  They did not grieve.  It was unthinkable.  So he celebrated her death with a ten day drunk.  He kept a lock of her hair tied to his belt with a tiny red silk ribbon, one of the few luxuries he had given her.  And now she was not-forgotten.  He would carry her with him into battle in the stars.  

    The same with his best friend Korth who’s throat was slit by Omunics, his young son Ruton who was reduced to atoms in an explosion and his father Ruseth who was cut down by a thousand blades while leading a charge against Bardeez.  

    None of them would be forgotten.  Tokens of them rested in this hall, some still stained with spilled blood, others slowly decaying.  But not forgotten until they crumbled away into dust and new generations placed new tokens here.

    Rugen was determined to lead his people forward.  To conquer, to fight.  It was all he knew, and he prided himself on his culture.  He carried his people forward in the way it always was, the way it always had been, the way it always would be.

    There were others talking about change.  A fundamental change of the way of life.  As if that was possible, hah!  No, Rugen felt they were – at best – dangerous fools playing with the fate of the universe.  And at worst they were manipulative predators trying to pacify and fatten up the Byzatium population for takeover and rule by Bardeez and the horrible empires that existed beyond.  

    He would much rather fight an endless war than die as a slave.  No one in the hall of the Not-Forgotten would have ever wanted to see anyone in the tribe bow to outsiders.  He would do it for them.  For the memory of what was and the continuations of what is.  War was an inevitable reality of his existence and he would continue on its path until he, too collapsed in a honorable pile of blood.

    Slowly he set the tokens down and strode out of the hall of the Not-Forgotten, emboldened to do what he had to do next.

    War.

    It would be done.

    ~*~
    ~tbc~
    ~*~

    MSNPC Rugen
    Byzatium Tribal Leader

     

     

     
    "Why do we fly? Because we have dreamt of it for so long that we must"

    ~Julian Beck
    E239010ST0

     

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  3. Quote

    She took a deep breath. Most of her life, she had to mostly look out for herself. She decided she did not want to just sit around and wait for Zara.

    Amar: is there something I can do to help? I don’t want to be scared of her forever.

    Love this from @Korras’ PNPC! That’s the spirit! 💪🏻

    Do we have a Starfleet officer in the making? 🧐😅

    • Like 4
  4. Just love this sim from @Evan Ross. Something so realistic and relatable about it.

     

    (( Starbase 118 - The Dungeon - Mundok's Bar )) 

    It was great to hear that Russell's family was doing well. Ross didn't find it easy to imagine his stoic Captain in retirement - but Cross would probably find a way to keep busy. Ross wouldn't mind to switch places actually - he adored how driven Russell was in approaching his career, but there was a reason he had never gotten higher than First Officer in one or two shipments. Also there was no family awaiting his pension - he was still on his own. 

    Cross: Nothing wrong with that. You will figure it out in time right? Time is still very much on your side. 

    Ross: ::chuckling:: You tell me. 

     
    Everybody seemed to talk about his love life today - the topic had come up with Rustyy just an hour ago. Did he radiate acute loneliness or something? Ross took a sip from his ale, but Cross had no intention of changing the subject. 

    Cross: What about Commander McLaren? Is she single? She seems right up your reality with the Intel prowess. Perhaps she could teach you a thing or two.
     
    That made him choke on his drink. For a moment Ross simply stared at Russell in disbelief -   

    Ross: She's my boss, pal. 
     
    Not to mention that he was still deadly afraid of her, and definitely not playing in her league. It took him another second to realise that Russell was only messing with him. When he heard him chuckle, Ross rolled his eyes and sunk back in his chair.

    Cross: You do you my man. I’m just saying, there are plenty of options out there for you buddy. 

    Ross: You had me there for a second. ::lightly punching Russell's shoulder:: Should have told me back in the day you see no problem in dating a superior. I would have taken you out for a drink earlier. 
     
    Now it was him who was joking - and something in their banter felt so painfully familiar that Ross actually started missing their shared adventures for a moment. Most of their trips had been uneventful deliveries, a lot of waiting and checking boxes - but in between those routines, they had shared a sense of companionship which had left a hole somewhere deep inside him ever since he had left the Centurion behind. There had been a common ground. A sense of belonging. Us against the world, come fleet come engine failure. 
     
    Cross: ? 
     
    Ross: I just want you to know - serving under your command, it meant a lot to me. All this, it's... ::hesitating, gesturing vaguely:: It's still strange to me. Doesn't sit quite right. 
     
    It felt like a dream sometimes - a little too shiny to actually believe it. His smile faded. 
     
    Cross: ? 
     
    Ross: I know, I know. It's what I wanted. And it's great. But if you ever get bored with retirement... ::he winked:: Give me a call, promise? 
     
    Cross: ? 
     
    They clinked glasses on that. Ross smiled and took a deep breath - the Centurion's arrival had put a lot of things into question this morning and he still wasn't sure if he had answers for them. If anything, Russell's call from the past had reminded him where he was from. A world much less shiny, grim for many parts - a world in which he had envied shiny Starfleet Utopia and despised it at the same time. He still had to find his path through this gleaming new reality - and he still had to figure out how to stop feeling like a stain. 
     
    But those were problems for another day. When he ordered another drink for them, he knew Cross would erase any doubts for the next few hours. Tomorrow was a new day - and their friendship stood renewed another time. 
     
    End of Scene for Ross 
     
    Ensign Evan Ross
    Intelligence Officer
    StarBase 118 Ops
    O240009ER2
    • Like 2
  5. Quote

    And it just so happened to be right in time… in walked the sour faced medic. Rustyy gave him a toothy smile, which got an eye roll in return. Nijil had known about the food and looked the other way. But didn’t let it be known. So Rustyy was left to think it had gotten past him. 

    Loved this from @Rustyy_Hael. Very sweet and it made me chuckle. 😆

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  6. Love the introspective narrative in this sim from @Drex0379.

     

    ((Hospital Deck 120, Lightside Station))

     

    Thanks to the intervention of the Talarian doctor, the unexpected detention of the three Starfleet officers lasted only a few minutes. A few minutes enough to make it clear, at least to Drex, that the station's crew must not have thought very highly of the Federation or Starfleet, or at least that they were doing fine on their own and did not welcome their visits.

     

    As their guide led the way to a more private office, Drex decided to let the lieutenants do the talking. And he was glad when the conversation shifted from himself to the hospital's capabilities and the teams working there.

     

    Samar: We’ve got just enough to cover the needs of the station’s usual population, although the hospital staff are often short-handed during busier times.  You know how it is.

     

    Raimor: I’m sure that it takes a lot of work to get that many scientists pulling in the same direction.

     

    Drex followed the three doctors keeping in the rear, a couple of steps behind them. He focused on the Talarian woman, wondering, in curiosity, how she managed to become the Chief Geneticist on the Spike. Was something she fought for herself or was her father who moved away from the tradition giving the daughter the opportunity to improve her condition and success? Either case, Drex was sure she would not be able to return to her homeworld and adapt back to the limitations her culture imposed on females.

     

    Vahin: Please lead the way. I must say, your facilities here are quite impressive.

     

    Samar simply shrugged and continued to lead the group down the corridors.

     

    Raimor: Hopefully, we will have everything that we need.

     

    Lost in his thoughts about Talarians, Drex was putting little attention to the talking, but he gazed at Raimor a little bit in confusion. Were they going to use the station facilities to work on the anti-toxin?

     

    They moved through the administration wing. There were a lot of staff about as usual, but they all seemed far to busy with their own concerns to pay them any attention.

     

    Vahin: I wasn’t expecting to find a geneticist here. I assumed this was just a hospital for treating the station’s population. Is a lot of research carried out on Lightside Station?

     

    Samar: You’d be surprised.  

     

    Raimor: What are you working on right now, if you don’t mind me asking? It looks like your staff is quite busy at the moment. The unusual reaction to our arrival causes me to wonder…

     

    Drex slowed his pace and took a look at the medical staff. The place was not so different from any other hospital he had visited. Not that he had visited many, fortunately, just a couple back at home when he was a little bit older than a kid, and the one at the Academy, when Dag’Har ended up in the ER with a broken arm after one of his dummy bets. 

     

    The Talarian doctor sighed and came to a stop. To Drex, she sounded quite unpleasant when she talked.

     

    Samar: I’m sorry, but that’s not something you need to know. This is an independent station, and my clients value their privacy. I’m sure you understand.  

     

    Raimor: Of course. I don’t mean any offense, Doctor, just wanted to know if there is anything that could interfere with our work.

     

    Vahin: Response

     

    Clients. She did not say patients. Client was a strange word to indicate someone who needs medical attention. Clients sound more of someone paying for specific research. And she was a geneticist. 

    Drex looked around, half hoping to spot something that would indicate the type of research and experiments were taking place. But there were no guinea pigs or screens with visible data to allow him any guesses. The station and the Talarians were not aligned with the Federation, the rules and ethics of the Federation did not apply here, and Drex could not exclude that the toxin that had arrived on Denali, and which they now feared would affect the Spike, had not actually been created here.

     

    Samar: I’ll be sure to let you know if there is.

     

    Samar stepped through the cleansing field that guarded the threshold to the Chief Medical Officers private laboratory, before pausing to make sure all the officers had followed her.

     

    Samar: This is the Chief Medical Officers private lab. ::pointing at a large partitioned off area:: His office is just over there.

     

    Vahin/ Raimor: Response

     

    Drex: I hope the Chief Medical Officer is waiting for us :: A slightly smile bond his lips :: 

     

    oO I would like to avoid ending up in a cage again Oo

     

    Samar made a beeline for the office door.

     

    Samar: No. I’m afraid he passed away recently.

     

    Vahin/ Raimor: Response

     

    From the tone she used, it seemed to Drex that the CMO’s death was a sudden and unexpected event.

     

    Drex: Sorry to hear about it :: he murmured ::

     

    Arriving at the officer door she paused and bent down slightly to swipe her pass on the access panel. After a moment the door unlocked with a barely audible click before sliding open.

     

    Samar: ::stepping inside the office:: Food poisoning. He had an allergic reaction to something he purchased at the underground market.

     

    Drex: Forgive my curiosity, but what race was the doctor?

     

    Vahin/ Raimor: Response

     

    Samar lowered herself into the CMO’s chair and gestured that the Starfleet officers were also welcome to sit.

     

    Samar: You’d need to speak to station security about that, but I'd recommend you only eat things that have come from a replicator. Now, what is it you want to discuss?

     

    Drex waited for the others to sit before getting a chair for himself. He was there to listen and give advice if required. As far as he could see, the hospital was state of the art, but it hadn't been the cure for a man's allergy. And the staff did not want to talk about that.

     

    Drex: Maybe we should alert the Commodore about the dangers of the market, what do you think? :: He asked to both the medical officers ::

     

    Vahin/ Raimor: Response

     

    Drex: I’ll send a message.

     

    The Denobulan officer picked up his PADD and typed a short message about the food and the replicator. He sent it to Commander DeVeau, as she was his immediate superior officer.

     

    Vahin/ Raimor/ Samar: Response

     

    Drex recalled the notes on his PADD. He knew them by heart, but the way the doctors presented the facts to Samar gave him a new perspective, and Samar's answers also gave him something new to think about.

     

    Vahin/ Raimor/ Samar: Response

     

    Drex: It's not something to underestimate. We have no certainties, but the most probable hypothesis is that the next attempt is here.

     

    Vahin/ Raimor/ Samar: Response


     

    TAG/TBC


     

    ============
    Ensign Drex
    Science Officer
    Denali Station
    D240011D14
    • Like 1
  7. Loving @Araxxu Vahin’s portrayal of Tridiatt Ken (A.K.A. Mr. Fox.)

    ((Interrogation Room, Federation Penal Ship Hobart))


    For a moment Tridiatt Ken was lost in the past. He saw ships bursting in the skies above Caradassia. He saw the bolts from his phase-disrupter killing his enemies. He saw those he loved die beside him.    

    Ton: Of course, we all served.  I did what I had to.

    Fox: I remember those days well. Nothing could stand in our way. We almost had you. ::he sighs:: And then we lost it all.

    Ton: Lost is probably the key word there.  Times change, and you can remain lost in the past - or help yourself.

    Fox: ::he looks down:: Perhaps I’m getting too old for this. ::he looks up and into Ton’s eyes:: From one old solider to another. Sweeten the deal, and perhaps I can help you out.
     
    Ton: Are you aware that some of the cells on this ship have windows?

     

    He sat up straighter as Ton spoke and realised he had let himself drift too far into the past. That damn Trill was right. Those days were over and mattered little to the issue at hand. For good or bad he was Mr. Fox now and he needed to ignore the past and make the present better.

     

    Fox: A view would be nice. What size are they?

     

    Ton: Approximately 50 centimeters by 50 centimeters.

     

    He looked down at the offered PADD and took in the schematics. It was always good to have a better idea of what the cage you lived in was like. He tried his best to memorize the schematics in the short time he was able to look at them. One never knew when that kind of information would come in handy.

     

    Fox: That is quite an upgrade…for a cage. And how does one go about getting a nicer cage?

     

    Ton: I convince the Warden you are not a threat to the order of his ship.

     

    Fox: And I suppose I prove this by giving you names?

     

    Ton: Response

     

    He shook his head and laughed.

     

    Mr Fox: Well it is not the first time I was a traitor. Though turning against the Dominion did have a certain chivalry that this act lacks. Yet, I’m sure my new associates would turn against me if they were in my place.

     

    oO Which they’re not, because they weren’t foolish enough to get captured.Oo

     

    And to be honest he cared very little about those he had hired to smuggle the toxin off of Denali. Dangling them in front of the Federation in order to improve his own situation didn’t bother him much. What did bother him was the target it might paint on his back if his associates knew it was him who had betrayed them.

     

    Mr Fox: ::sigh:: What do you need from me?

     

    Ton: Response

     

    Mr Fox: ::chuckles:: Is that all? You don’t want my first born as well?

     

    Ton: Response

     

    TAG, TBC

     

    <><><><><><><><><><><>  

     

    Mr Fox as simmed by

     

    Lt Jg Araxxu Vahin   

    Medical   

    Denali Station   

    D240006AV3  

    • Like 2
  8. Meant to post this a few days ago. Another brilliant shore leave scene between @Vitor S. Silveira and @Sal Taybrim.

     

    ((StarBase 118, Promenade, Donut Worry ))

    Tito had ended up in, of all places, in a donut shop. To his surprise, considering how early in the early morning it was, Sal joined him. 
    Tito told him about his recent visit to Sil and how it was affecting him.

    Tito leaned back. He tipped his head, as he avoided Sal's eyes. Besides the guilt and the fear, now he was also ashamed. 

    Tito: I feel… Guilty. I mean, my life isn't perfect but… Even if we are a quadrant apart my relationship with Taisa is strong. I miss Arys, and Egil, but I am getting along much better with others… ::he smirked looking back at Sal:: At least that's what it feels like. I am on a department a little clear from the action and the field I always loved since I was a kid…

    He paused, opening his arms, shrugging. 

    Tito: My life got back on track. Why did Sil's have to take that down turn? I couldn't… I didn't even tell him about Taisa. It felt wrong after what he's been through. 

    Sal leaned forward.

    Taybrim: Your good fortune doesn’t mean Sil’s ill fortune.  There is enough good fortune in the universe for everyone, especially the both of you. And I would emphasize that you are part of Sil’s good fortune, despite his bad times.  You were there for him and came through for him.  As for why?  I ask that of the universe myself.  And I don’t have an answer on why the universe is cruel.  Only that it’s not your fault.  Or my fault.  Or Sil’s fault.  It just exists and we have to endure it.

    Tito nodded. Sal proved himself again. Not only was he a caring friend and CO, he was also wise and pondered. He smiled, leaning forward, taking his half eaten donut in his fingers. 

    Tito: However,  in all this I came to realise something. I have a very scientific approach to donuts now.

    Taybrim: Oh?  Do tell.

    Tito: Donuts are simple. Just cake around a hole.

    Sal smiled.

    Taybrim: I think that’s a philosophical approach rather than a scientific one.

    Tito frowned even if he was still smiling.

    Tito: Really? In Human Classical culture Philosophy was considered the Science of Sciences. But do you think my observation can be extrapolated in such a matter?

    Taybrim: The philosophy of donuts?  Hm.  I suppose we could find some truth in that.

    Tito: That is one of the goals of philosophy, but go on.

    Sal raised his doughnut, as if he was observing it. Tito was curious to see what would be his reply. He took a bit from his own donut as he listened to Sal.

    Taybrim: Alright, here’s mine.  I think the smooth frosted donuts are fine, but the imperfect ones, the rough ones are all the more delicious for their texture.  

    Tito finished chewing and nodded.

    Tito: Now that to me is a scientific observation. Although, like my observation, it can have a deeper meaning. 

    Taybrim: Aright, what’s yours?

    Tito raised an eyebrow and tipped his head.

    Tito: Mine? I don’t think I can make a correct dissertation.

    Sal leaned forward with a soft smile.

    Taybrim: I don’t think there’s any right or wrong answers in philosophy.  Just an attempt to reach some sort of realization that helps you move forward with your day.

    Tito: I might have to make a revelation first.

    Taybrim: Response

    Tito leaned back, making himself more comfortable. Curiously speaking with Sal was making him move forward from his early feelings.
    Nothing like metaphorically picking donuts, in the earliest hours of the day, with the Sun barely on the horizon, to smooth the emotions that troubled him.

    Tito: I don’t even like donuts. But to give it a try, I think the most important part of the donut is the most overlooked.

    Taybrim: Response

    Tito pointed to Sal’s donut, since his was almost all gone.

    Tito: The hole. There resides the key to the true nature. Because if it isn’t there the donut is just another pastry. It’s what gives its identity and what gives it… Lets say, meaning.

    Taybrim: Response

    Tito opened his arms. This wasn’t certainly his field, nor a theme he ever particularly wondered about. But Sal was easy to talk to, and as they kept on the conversation became more interesting.

    Tito: I hope you don’t think it's an ambiguous answer, but to me that hole means nothing. ::Tito smiled as he took a longer pause before finishing.:: And everything. It permits us to think, and consider, over what is and is not. In a practical, scientific observation, it’s like matter and antimatter.

    Taybrim: Response


    TAG/TBC

    Lt. Vitor R.S.Tito 
    Science Officer
    Starbase 118
    O238907VS0

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  9. So many great shore leave scenes happening on Ops at the moment, but as a fan of the Film Noir genre, this one between @Evan Ross and @Corey Wethern has especially got me hooked!
     

    ((Holosuite - Flamingo Club))

    Thick, heavy drops of water dripping from every roof and canopy - the weather was incredibly atmospheric. Perfectly fitting for a noir crime story. But the thing with rain was also this: it crept under your collar and made you shiver, no matter if holo or real. Ross shrugged and buried his chin deeply into his collar while listening to Corey's plan. Maybe it wasn't too bad after all to live on a station with artificial weather. He regretted not taking a hat. 

    Wethern: Hmm maybe I can cause a distraction let you do a little bit of
    digging with the high class clientele.

    Ross: Remember tonight's the night. All the big names from town are in
    for the annual Poker. If her husband is really such a gambler, he
    wouldn't miss this for sure.

    Wethern: You think he has just skipped the broad to win his hand at cards?

    Ross: All I'm saying is - if he doesn't show, something's wrong. But maybe his wife's just overly worried and we'll meet him at the big table. 

    Wethern: I don't know, she seemed pretty sure. Anyway slick lets go
    inside, this rain is making me more slippery than a Ferengi.

     
    Ross chuckled and shook his head at that remark - and then decided to stay in character. 

    Ross: You're speaking in riddles, my friend. 

    Corey approached the door as the bouncer nodded obviously recognising Ross.

    Bouncer: You here to lose more money Ross?

    Ross: ::grimacing:: You bet. I see you more than my wife these days. 

    The bouncer laughed and Corey slipped some cash in his pocket as he
    dutifully opened the red velvet rope.
     
     
    The Down Under Club greeted them with the usual smokey air - the sombre voice from the lonely singer lulled them into a perfume fuelled trance and Ross immediately took a deep breath as if he was about to drown. 

    Wethern: ::to a waitress:: Scotch neat please, and make it a double.
    ::Turning back to Ross:: What now slick? We are in your world.

    Ross: ::gazing through the room:: You should keep your head down. Once they take you for a cop they will think you're patrolling or something. Maybe stay at the bar, keep an eye on the ladies.
     
    He winked, but was only half-joking - at the other side of the counter, two younger women were sitting and sticking their heads together. No matter how bored they looked - he was sure they knew exactly what was going on in the room. 
     
    Wethern: ? 
     
    Ross: Please try to stay low, pal.
     
    Wethern: ? 
     
    Ross tipped his head, straightened his wet hair and turned towards one of the smaller Poker tables, by now buzzing with excitement. 
     
    ((Short Timeskip))
     
    A little while later he was deep into a round of Poker, his hand not looking particularly good - but he wasn't here for the game anyways, or at least he tried to tell himself that. Next to him sat a sturdy man with a moustache that didn't seem much happier.
     
    Ross: No luck? 
     
    Grisham: Eh. Bleeding. Bet those cards are rigged anyways. 
     
    Ross: You think so? 
     
    Grisham: Club isn't the same anymore. Can't trust these crooks nowadays. 
     
    Ross sank back into his chair, waving lightly in order to call the bet. He was almost out of his self-set limits. Always the same.
     
    Ross: A lot of trouble lately, I hear. Haven't seen Horace in a while.
     
    Grisham: Ha! ::chuffing:: Horace, you say? 
     
    Ross: Heard anything?
     
    Grisham: You haven't? Big trouble. With them guys from the backdoors. Wait - ::narrowing his eyes:: You're not with the cops, are ya, son? 
     
    Ross: Come on. 
     
    He chuckled, but it was time to end this conversation. He was on thin ice already - and his chips were nearly gone. The ante was way too high - in various ways. He slid a few chips over the table towards his new friend, pocketing what was left, and turned to return to Corey at the bar.
     
    Ross: So? What do you make of this? 
     
    Wethern: ? 
     
    Ensign Evan Ross
    Intelligence Officer
    StarBase 118 Ops
    O240009ER2
    • Like 4
  10. 4 hours ago, Korras said:

    So I started out with a sassy part-betazoid mission npc stowaway with a rough childhood who wanted to do some mischief and then have fun on the beach, but ended up overwhelmed with what everyone around her was feeling and through that found someone who really cared for her. I never expected this would be the end result. :)

     

    She'll be sticking around for sure. She has been very fun to write! 

    And that’s why we love this game!

    • Like 2
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