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Saveron

Captains Council observer
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Everything posted by Saveron

  1. ((USS Ronin, Deck 1: Captain's Ready Room)) ::Tallis followed Toni into the CRR, hot on her heels and glad even of the time they could spend together for a mission debrief. It felt like half a year that he'd been deprived of the chance of her company. Unexpectedly, she stopped dead in her tracks, and he almost lost his balance trying to stop too, bumping into the back of her. As she whirled round, pulling his arms into an embrace, he laughed, amazed and delighted at her dropping the confining mantle of captaincy and allowing herself to completely relax. It was one of many signs of how much she trusted him, and he realised at that moment that he trusted her more than anyone else he had ever known. She was warm, and he felt his heart skip a beat as she looked up at him.:: Turner: I've missed you. Tallis: I've missed you too. ::Turning within his arms, she smiled, matching his embracing kisses with those of her own, happy in the knowledge that they had found each other.:: Tallis: ::Playfully:: How can the Captain's champion serve you, my lady? ::She sighed, her arms collapsing with the thought of putting their passions aside even for one moment, but knowing they still had work to do.:: Turner: ::stepping away slightly:: We have to contact Starfleet and tell them what happened right away. Var could use a delay to further entrench his forces, or move on some unsuspecting planet. Merek too, for that matter. ::As the bubble burst, and their workload forced them to deal with the red tape, Tallis stayed positive. Somehow the burden of talking to department after department at Starfleet Command seemed inconsequential with Toni at his side. He stood for a second before he answered, watching as she took to her desk and smiling contentedly; there was definitely something inside him that was telling him that he wanted to be with her for a long time.:: Tallis: ::Taking the seat opposite her.:: Then I guess we'd better get started... ::It took a few minutes of consulting the many directives for procedure and protocol to determine exactly which member of Starfleet needed to be filled in on which piece of information. The threat from the Breen themselves was clearly a report for Starfleet Security, who in turn would pass that information on to Starfleet Intelligence, but the news about the Treaty of Bajor, as well as the Breen shipbuilding and Romulan involvement was much more obscure. They had only just started to make some headway when the comm system inevitably activated. As the conversation unfolded, Tallis listened in, curious to find out what was happening.:: Lee-Umun: =/\= Lt.Commander Lee-Unum to Captain Turner =/\= Turner: =/\= Go ahead, Talon =/\= Lee-Unum: =/\= Toni, I think you better come to Sickbay. =/\= Turner: =/\= Why? Does Dr. Saveron need me? =/\= Lee-Unum: =/\= No, he's not here yet, but it's concerning the captive. Toni, I don't know how to tell you this other than just saying it. The captive is Heath. =/\= ::And then the bottom fell out of the galaxy. Toni's eyes fixed on her blank desk, the shock of what Talon had just told her paralyzing her mentally for a few seconds. Tallis wanted to reach out to her, but found that he was having difficulty processing the information himself. They had just beamed Heath, Toni's husband, the lover whom she had presumed dead onto the ship, and he was lying just three decks below them.:: Lee-Unum: =/\= Toni, did you hear me?=/\= Tallis: =/\= Talon, are you sure it's Heath? =/\= Lee-Unum: =/\= Yes, I'm sure, Commander. He's not in the best of shape, though. =/\= Tallis: =/\= Stand by. =/\= ::Reaching out to rest a hand on Toni's forearm.:: Do you want me to go check? Turner: ::reconciling to reality, she stood up:: No, tell her I'm on my way. Tallis: OK. =/\= Talon, she's on her way down to you now. Tallis out. =/\= ::There were a million things that Tallis wanted to say to Toni, and all of them fought for supremacy, bumping into each other as they drove their way forward from his mind to reach the outside world. In the end, only one phrase won.:: Tallis: I'll come with you. Turner: No, I'm okay. Talon could be mistaken, and I can clear things up with with a positive identification. Just hold my seat in the Lounge, okay? Tallis: ::Forcing a smile.:: Sure. ::She stood, and rushed from the Ready Room. Tallis slumped back into the seat, the arm that had been stretched out across the desk dropping heavily into his lap. Turning to face the viewports, he stared out into the stars, his mind racing, yet empty.:: ::Heath was aboard. Heath. Seconds before he had been thinking about his wonderful relationship with the most perfect woman in the galaxy, and then her long lost husband had come aboard. It was difficult to make sense of, difficult to comprehend fully, and before he could stop it, the [...] that had been holding back a torrent of a thousand questions broke, inundating his mind in a deluge that consumed him.:: ::What does this mean for us? Why did this have to happen? Where did he even come from? Why can nothing ever go right? When will I ever be able to settle down?:: ::Leaning forward, he grabbed his head with both hands, angry and frustrated with himself, shame washing over him. Those were not the questions that he should be asking, not even the questions that he wanted to ask. In response, his real concerns bubbled to the surface. Will Toni be OK? Is it really Heath? If so, then will he be OK?:: ::He found himself standing and heading for the turbolift before he could collect his thoughts. The captain had ordered him to go to the Double Shot and save her a seat. No... Toni had asked him to go to the Double Shot and save her a seat. The lift doors closed as he forced the distinction. Either way, she had asked for something, and carrying it out was the only way he could think of to be useful to her. The lift delivered him a little too quickly to his destination, and he shook himself clear of it all; he could already hear the crew beginning to let their hair down inside, and he wasn't ready to share this with anyone else. Moreover, he couldn't even if he wanted it to, not without compromising any hope he had of being a help to Toni. The last thing she needed was for their relationship to go public, especially in the light of her husband's return.:: ::The doors to the lounge parted, and Tallis entered, quickly and quietly taking a seat in a corner where he could observe the crew without having to join them...:: TBC Lieutenant Commander Tallis Rhul First Officer USS Ronin NCC-34523
  2. Saveron

    JAN/FEB *WINNER* The Price We Pay

    The Price We Pay ((An’ahyaes Valley, Tralorian Plains, Han-Shir, Vulcan. Approximately 4000 Terran years ago.)) The plains were green. The long blades of the hardy grasses were drenched in blood, cloaking the deep, rich red of these grasslands in a sickly hue, brilliant malachite where it was yet fresh, fading to a dull khaki where it dried in the hot sun. The air stank of copper. These plains, so close to the wilderness that edged the Voroth Sea were some of the most fertile on the continent, but it would be poetic justice if nothing ever grew here again. The soil of these valleys could feed a nation if carefully tended, but it’s value had been measured in blood and death over the millennia as different clans fought over it, and Lohraedhys would be happier if the valleys turned to desert, if the soil dried up and blew away like the sands of the Go’an. The land should echo the desolation that she felt, for it had lost what she lost. Farmers’ plows would raise bones from the red soil for generations, and it would be better if that was all that grew here. Then perhaps the bloodshed would stop. But it would be too late, always far too late, to matter. He was gone. Now there was nothing but silence. Feet clad in delicate slippers made their way silently over the ground as Lohraedhys picked her way through the carnage of the battlefield, heedless of the blood that stained those slippers or the hem of her fine robes, hand embroidered in the most intricate of patterns. They were clothes that befit the bond-mate of the heir to the leadership of the Ayein clan of the Nel-Gathic peoples, who had controlled the great An’ahyaes Valley for an age. Now the blood of her bond-mate and all their warriors wet it’s soils, and only the old, the infirm, the children and their mothers remained, lost and bereft, without guidance, without purpose, without those they had loved. Behind her a keening arose, a wordless, tuneless wail of pure loss, the sound of a heart torn in two, as Siyarhenae mourned his passing. She had been but a trophy taken from an enemy, yet he had made her his own too, had loved her with the same fierceness he had loved Lohraedhys, that same passion that she had felt, every time she touched him, and would never feel again. Valeohrohen. ((City of Ti’yeht, Lyein hills, Han-Shir, Vulcan. Some time before.)) He had laughed, watching their son play with his pet Sehlat in the cool quiet of the gardens of their house, part of the complex owned by his family. Ochre leaves threw dappled shade and the extravagance of a tiny mist fountain lent a luxurious humidity to the thin air. Pale grey eyes watched the child, amusement and peace in every line of that angular face. Long fingers plucked idly at the Vulcan harp in his lap, seemingly without any attention spared to the action yet the melody that trailed in their wake was both simple and almost unbearably sweet. He had a gift with the harp. He was talented in many things but there was some sweet, bitter poesy in his soul that spoke through it’s strings, that could goad an audience to hope or to despair. Sometimes he seemed more eloquent in his music than in anything else, until he set words to it and surpassed even that. He could capture the strong, vibrant emotions of his people in a few simple words that never the less spoke of the soul of every Vulcan, the deep passions and furies that drove their people to hate, and to love, to destroy and to build. They were capable of the greatest things because they were so driven, and he most of all. He was a musician, a composer and a poet, his deep voice rendered his songs in tones that spoke to the depths of being. He was a scholar, and a warrior, a gifted tactician and a talented leader. He fought with a ferocity few men could match, and could touch her with a gentleness she had never thought possible. He moved through life with a certainty born of a fire in his soul; he was a man of deep passions and convictions, and who inspired love and loyalty in his people. He had certainly inspired it in Lohraedhys. She would have followed him to the ends of Vulcan, he was dearer to her than life itself. And she loved nothing more than to sit and listen to him play, and watch their children. They were yet young, there would be more, each with the mark of their father, if the Gods were kind. Each with his talents and passion for life. She smiled over at him and he met her gaze with equal fondness, paused in his playing and reached out a hand, two fingers extended to touch hers, mind meeting mind. She could feel his intense love for her in that touch, see it in his strange, pale grey eyes. There was no need for words. Valeohrohen Naykh Hawehl-khur, they called him in their tongue. Valeohroen Silver Eyes. ((Cultural Studies Lecture Series, StarFleet Academy, San Francisco. Present Day.)) “Valoren ‘Silver Eyes’ was a Nel-Gathic warlord during the Ozay’in era, famous for three things. First, his exacting tactical manouvering which led to the defeat of the Kor’hin clan over water resources despite their vastly superior numbers. Second, the subsequent mass slaughter of his own Ayein clan when the Kor’hin peoples staged an uprising led by the brother of the leader he killed, and third, as far as can be deduced, being the individual in whom the rare ‘dominant grey’ eye-colour allele appeared de novo. There’s a piece of trivia for you.” Professor Alexander Saint-Gabriel smiled thinly. Ancient Vulcan culture was not his favourite topic and fortunately was not one on which he had to dwell for long. “Compared to many events from this era, these records have been preserved relatively intact by the descendants of the survivors of the Ayein clan. How much of these records is factual is debated in great depth by Vulcan historians, for much of the story was passed on as oral tradition and has become as legend, and plenty of discussion on various sources can be found in the literature. Fact or fiction however it is considered to be an excellent example of the pre-Surak Vulcan culture of the region, and is often used by way of a moral fable for young children.” Certainly such stories were preserved by modern day Vulcans with a ‘lest we forget’ attitude. “I want you to study the story itself, the accompanying song of mourning and the discussion and interpretation in your texts, and then find and summarise for me two papers discussing either the veracity of the source material or the implications for modern Vulcan culture with references to the original work by class next week.” ((An’ahyaes Valley, Tralorian Plains, Han-Shir, Vulcan. Approximately 4000 Terran years ago.)) Siyarhenae’s wailing wound to disharmonic, unsatisfying close, the final tones hanging in the air and begging by their very harmonics for an answer, but it was an answer that would not come. Lohraedys knew that for certain now. Heedless of the mess of the battlefield she crouched in the bloodied grass, green staining her robes and her hands, as she reached out to touch his still form. Tall and spare, lean muscles hardened from fighting, he lay stretched out upon the bloodied ground, flung there in the throws of death. But his angular face, so very expressive, was still, slack, peaceful. One might almost think he had accepted his death willingly, were it not for the five strangers who lay dead around him, torn nearly limb from limb. Amongst them he seemed strangely intact, save for the bloody spear which protruded from low in his torso; straight through his heart. She reached out to touch his face, and he was cold. Where there had been a warm, driven, passionate mind, there was nothing. This was not him, this was only a corpse. Valeohrohen was gone. She could not voice her loss as Siyarhenae did, but she grieved, perhaps even more deeply, for he had been her world since she was too young to understand who he was. Bowing her hear, a tear trickled down her cheek, precious moisture shed in recognition of all that had passed from this world. Such loss was the price they paid for the passion of their people, capable of such greatness, and such sorrow. Was the former worth the latter? A breeze sprang up, stirring the bloodied grass, bringing with it a cool relief and soon, as Yel approached the horizon, and she knew that it would bring with it the cool mists that gave moisture to these fertile lands. It was a travesty that such cycles of life should continue when so much death surrounded her, an insult to the loss they had all suffered. The suffering on this plain should turn back that wind and call forth instead the hot breath of the Go’an and turn these lands with their wealth of pain to dust. If she could have she would have taken the spear from his corpse and used it to follow him. But there were the children to think of. Two still hiding up in the hills, and the one she carried inside her. She hadn’t even had time to tell him. For their sake, for his legacy, she would go on. But there would be no more light in the world, no more joy. No more songs.
  3. That's excellent news. Of course, having got all excited because it's Monday which means training starts, I now realise that Monday for the people who run the training is no doubt Tuesday for me. Clearly I shall have to practice some Vulcan meditation to keep my impatience under control.
  4. I am looking forward to becomming a part of the fleet - does it show? - and shall be interested to see where I am placed. BTW, am I by any chance addressed a fellow Aussie? And thank you, I have some fairly nifty art software and am not above a little photomanipulation. I am also an avid fan of Cillian Murphy, whose picture I butchered. I have altered pictures for avatars for players in other games before. I do like your banner. I have yet to try to put together something that complex, but it looks like a lot of thought went into it.
  5. Thank you for your prompt replies, much appreciated.
  6. I have a question about sim selection. Assuming that we graduate, I am given to understand that we will be assigned to a sim based on writing style and open positions. Do we have any say in the sim to which we are assigned? If, for example, having looked over the sites and info on various sims, we had formed a preference, could we make that preference known? Obviously the commanding officers know their sims much better than we do and I assume that we would be told if they felt that a particular sim was not right for us, but would a preference at least be taken into account?
  7. Like some otheres here I too am ex-AQSG, although I never underwent their training program as I was a crew member of one of the two founding sims and therefor predate their Academy training by several years. I always enjoyed the free-form but paced nature of the PBeM which encouraged character development and good writing skills. Unfortunately a lot of these sims appear to be falling by the wayside. With the folding of the last group I was involved in I was concerned that might be the end of Star Trek RPG as I knew it, as a great many players were lost to Star Trek Online. I was therefor very interested when Starbase 118 appeared on my Google search, as you appear to be a keen and active group with a planned training program that suggests a high level of organisation and support for new players. I admit that the writing style described on your website nearly put me off as I am very much a 'storyteller' and I was concerned that the various quote marks were indicative of a truncated and 'chat-like' method of posting, which I would find distasteful. However, I read some of your writing competition work and also some posts from one of your sims on their YahooGroups site and found that this was not the case. Although the format is unfamiliar the quality and depth of writing is still there, so I resolved to 'suck it and see', as we say Down Under. I have been playing other types of RPGs but I have missed Star Trek, and I am keen to boldly go once more.
  8. Thank you for your expression of welcome.

  9. Thank you Captain. It is a privaledge to be here.

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