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Rinev Shryn

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  1. Hi all, my name is Adam and I'll be simming for Rinev Shryn. I used to write here about five years ago when I simmed as Jorus Cogud and Ssandon on the Discovery-C and Duronis Embassy respectively. Sadly starting uni got in the way of this and took up a lot of my time. I have since graduated however and looking forward to writing with you all again!
  2. ((Sickbay, USS Discovery-C)) ::He spotted the flustered Raskorian instantly upon entering the infirmary and dashed directly towards the plumed physician, battling nausea and a pounding head along the way. He stopped abruptly. A wall of glass stood in his way, between himself and the doctor, whom he saw buzzing about the surgical suite like a hummingbird on speed. As he pressed himself against the thick glass panel, he caught glimpses of the patient in between flitting silhouettes of dancing medics and pirouetting automated scanners. Blood. Everywhere. The prophecy was coming true. Each of us will meet our pre-destined ultimate fate, a fate Future Emerson had been forced to witness and subsequently chronicled and passed down to him to bear, like a body-devouring hereditary disease. There was no escaping it. And this was the day. This was the day Raj Blueheart would die. Driven by heart and adrenaline, when opportunity struck in the form of a medic entering the sealed and sterile suite, he burst through the entrance and into the white room. Ignoring the astonished shouts and gasps, he dragged his feet across the floor, in a trance as if, his eyes and mind only focused on the body being operated on the table in the center of the room. Was someone calling out to him? The bloodied body of the man lay draped on the steel table. Remarkably, he had a sort of whimsical smile upon his sallow face. Gloved hands and hydraulic appendages dug into cut flesh and sinews. The rusty scent of coagulated blood hung heavily in the air, pungent, almost cleansing in a way, like bleach is cleansing. Yet, through the heavy, smothering odor, he could still smell him. His scent lingered, weak but viable, within the cloud of repugnant molecules of morphine, antiseptic, blood and death. The distinct scent that reminded him of home. A haven. A sanctuary. That secret garden that held his own heart, displayed proudly upon a marble pedestal. A steady beeping echoed through the room. Was that Raj’s heart? Multiple strong pairs of hands and arms tore into his clothes and gripped his limbs like vicious claws. He was being hauled away by an angry mob of surgeons and nurses. Dragged away from the secret garden. The scent waning, the rhythm of the beating heart fading, visions blanching. Tears screamed and hollered on behalf of his choking throat. The same psychotic thought pulsed and pounded within his head like a jackhammer. The prophecy was coming true. There was no escaping it. And this was the day. This was the day Raj Blueheart would die. TBC ======================================= Ensign Emerson Ravenscroft Xenolinguist USS DISCOVERY-C as simmed by Commander Raj Blueheart First Officer USS DISCOVERY-C
  3. Mid-morning in the Klingon prison camp was recreation time, the prisoners were allowed to go outside, although there was nothing to look at, or they could stay inside the prison complex, which was equally unpleasant, either way you were not going to have fun in the dust-ridden, dirt-covered hell that was the Mempa System prison camp. The prisoners kept here were considered the most dangerous and dishonourable men and women in the entire Klingon Empire; in it you could find any manner of people from Ferengi smugglers to the most dangerous Klingon murderers. It was also the current location of a Trill smuggler. Darzen Cogud sat on the hard and sandy floor of the camp, in his hand was a scrap of stale bread that he had stolen from one of the weaker prisoners, in Mempa prison you did what you could to survive. Darzen was merely imitating what stronger prisoners did to him, so what was the harm? He bit down into the bread, it was a bit crunchy and very hard to swallow, but apart from that it was bread. He finished it quickly careful not to save any for later because one of the stronger, Klingon or Gorn prisoners would take it. The mid-morning sun shone between the cracks in the roof of Mempa, it shone into Darzen’s eyes like a lost sheep, wanting to be found. The last time light had shone into his eyes like that was when he was caught. Darzen had been running his usual business, he had a shipment of maraji crystals, he wanted to avoid passing through Federation space, as his usual shipping routes had been increasingly difficult to smuggle in, it seemed the Federation had upped security in recent years, and Darzen wanted to avoid being caught. He was originally going to take a longer route that would bypass the areas of increased security but his client was adamant he get his drugs, and offered a higher price the quicker they arrived. And so that led Darzen to Klingon space, normally the Klingons were much less scrupulous when it came to searching vessels that passed through their space, but the consequences of being caught were much higher and that’s why you don’t go through Klingon space. But Darzen was certain he could do it, everything seemed bright, at the end he would be paid a substantial sum of latinum, which he could then use to gain access to pleasures beyond his wildest dreams. If he got past the border without detection. Recreation time in Mempa prison was over; it was now time to work. The current project for the prisoners in the camp was to manufacture some small but necessary components in the construction of Birds-of-prey. The construction, however, was hard work, made harder by the camps cruel overseer, K’rtok, son of Maglus. He was a pitiful excuse for a Klingon in truth: small, obese, cowardly and cruel. He was dishonourable, many of the Klingon prisoners argued that he should be working in the camp, rather than overseeing it, he seemed to take pleasure in beating prisoners. Most thought it was because it made him feel powerful, others believed it was because he was ordered to, Darzen thought it was because he enjoyed inflicting pain on the weak. He only gained his position as overseer because his brother was an honourable man; his brother was also a man Darzen new well. Darzen was about thirty minutes into his trip through Klingon space, his small but robust ship was working better than it had for ten years. Darzen figured it was because his ship was as eager to leave Klingon space as he was. The trip was going exactly as planned, the Trill smuggler had estimated he would be out of Klingon space within a day and so he had begun to plan what he wanted to spend his money on. Just as he was debating whether or not to buy an Orion Slave Girl for an evening a small beeping noise accompanied by a red flash appeared on his control panel, it was signalling that a ship was close by Darzen looked around to see above him was a Klingon Bird-of-prey, its green hull was not a pleasant sight for any man with illegal substances in his cargo hold. Another light began to flash, this time accompanied by a high pitched hum, indicating the ship wanted to talk. Darzen, reluctantly accepted the hail, he was greeted by a smug, fat face of a Klingon captain on his small screen he used for communicating. “May I help you gentleman?” Darzen asked daringly, flashing a smile. “I am Captain Kroth, son of Maglus. My crew and I are ordered to search all vessels passing this area of space.” “Well, I would be happy to have you aboard to look around but I am transporting a shipment of Andorian peaches, if I have any delays they will ripen to early and they will not get to their destination in perfect condition.” “A shame for you Trill, come to a full stop. My search team will be over shortly.” “I will prepare a drink…” Darzen slumped in his chair as Captain Kroth ended the transmission, he really did have Andorian peaches with him, but the Klingon search party would have dealt with smugglers before, and would probably tear his ship apart before allowing him to continue on his way. Soon enough a brood of angry Klingons beamed aboard his ship in a dazzling, blood red shimmer. They immediately reached for their disrupters to contain Darzen, even though they hadn’t done their search. Darzen escorted them to his cargo bay. He led them to the peaches and exposed them but the Klingons had to look in every box and so they did. Each crate they opened contained more peaches, until they hit the jackpot, sitting in one crate was eight, shining crystals. Word soon got back to Captain Kroth, and Darzen returned with the Klingons back to their ship, his craft was seized, his assets stolen and his credibility as a smuggler ruined – if he gave away names. The afternoon was fast ending in Mempa prison camp, and that meant one thing. Inspection. The prisoners were marched outside in the burning sun (they were lucky it was not midday as the heat would kill them) so that “K’rtok, son of Malgus” could take pleasure in seeing those that had to obey him suffer. Obviously that was not the official reason given; apparently it was an effective way to count the prisoners. Darzen could see that even the guards hated it; the dishonour of parading all-ready vulnerable people in a dangerous environment would have been hard to bear for the traditionally raised Klingon warriors. The prisoners lined up, not to the military precision the overseer would have liked because they were just prisoners but they were in some kind of line. Darzen stood among the rabble of Klingon, Gorn, Ferengi, Nausicaans and others, trying to avoid the overseer spotting him. The overseer had taken a ‘liking’ to Darzen Cogud and unfortunately K’rtok did spot him. The Klingon approached him and glared into the eyes of the smuggler. “Mr Cogud” He growled. “Twenty laps of the facility.” Darzen looked at him in horror; if he was to do twenty laps in this heat he would surly die. In addition there was no reason for Cogud to run twenty laps. The guards obviously thought this to as they exchanged worried looks behind the overseer’s back, but they were too scared to intervene. Darzen would have to fight his own battles. “No.” He barley mumbled the last word the son of Malgus wanted to hear. His eyes lit up like fireworks. “What did you say?” “No.” Again he mumbled. “You will do fifty laps of this facility Trill, even if it means my guards drag you around it.” “You said twenty.” His voice was now raised, as he knew K’rtok would follow through with his threats. “I lied… Prisoners dismissed.” K’rtok smiled at Darzen, although the Klingon had to look up at the Trill, it felt like he was looking down. His cruel eyes locked onto Darzen. The Trill shivered, remembering the first time it happened. After his capture, Darzen was taken to the Mempa system to be interrogated by the brother of Captain Kroth and the overseer of Mempa Prison Camp. Darzen was bought into a small room, on the wall was a picture of Kahless, above two crossed Bat’leths. The accused-of-smuggling Trill was sat on a cold metal chair and left alone for two hours, the Klingons wanted to see how he reacted, Darzen sat still. After two hours, K’rtok, son of Malgus entered, he was an unimpressive Klingon, and he was about 5ft 8, with a small beard and small hair. The only large thing about him was his weight. He was armed with a disruptor but Darzen could see no knife, this Klingon was without honour. He began to demand the names of the smuggler associates. Darzen remained quiet. He tried to find out the purpose of the crime. Darzen remained quiet. After repeated attempts, K’rtok, son of Malgus was getting impatient. And demanded Darzen speak, Darzen who was now battered and bruised from the repeated blows to his person looked up. “Did someone steal your knife?” K’rtok glared down at Darzen, locking his eyes onto the Trill. He hit him again, blackening an already black eye. He then stormed out of the room leaving Darzen alone with his bruises and his thoughts. He was eventually charged with smuggling, and sentenced to a life sentence in Mempa prison camp. Obviously the life sentence would have been frowned upon in the Federation but he was in the Klingon Empire and so a life sentence for smuggling was common place. Darzen was escorted by two guards to the main section of Mempa Prison Camp, like most Klingon Prisons the sleeping quarters was simply a large cave in which the prisoners had fashioned their own accommodation. This was where Darzen would spend his first night in Mempa Prison, as darkness fell over the planet Darzen found a small spot in the corner of the cave. His thoughts were still locked on his interrogation he had undergone just a few hours ago. He curled up in a ball and closed his eyes and then slowly fell asleep, waiting for the first day of eternity. Darzen woke. He was still battered and bruised from his run/drag the night before. A guard had dragged the Trill the full fifty laps. His clothes were torn, his side was red and his head was still feeling light. He looked around his now almost-cosy accommodation, completely different from the gap in the corner he had found two months ago. He stood up slowly, his side still aching, as he prepared for another day in Mempa Prison. Lt Jorus Cogud Chief Tactical Officer USS Discovery-C
  4. I used to play quite a lot, not been on lately. My handle is Cogud@CommanderFry (I think) In any case my character is Jorus Cogud and my ship is the USS Dauntless.
  5. For the two options I would say Khan, I am one of those people who feel that Q is a menace rather than a villain. However, in the whole Star Trek Spectrum, I feel there are many more villains far superior to Khan. Gul Dukat: My all time favorite villain, mainly for the reasons pointed out already. He is such a complex character compared to Khan/Q. Weyoun: The ultimate bureaucrat, he is one of the major leading figures on the Dominion side and he can get killed... then come back again. Brunt: Albeit not a villain in the sense the others are, but he causes plenty of problems for Quark...
  6. Rinev Shryn


    Lt Commander Dara O’Doyle met his true love on Stardate 237909.03, he was just an ensign then, fresh from the academy. Now he was a Lt. Commander, he had conquered the ranks but refused to leave her. She was his light in the dark, his every breath was for her. Now he had to leave her to die. What could he do, she was injured with no chance of being saved. Dara stared at her, he knew she would stare back if she could, but she couldn’t. Her injuries were to great. Lt Commander O’Doyle just stared at her think of their relationship together. The first time they held hands, his fingers running gently across her skin, he treated he as a lady. As a goddess. “Self Destruct in 5 minutes” The eerie cold voice echoed across the bridge like the howl of a wolf, ready to attack it’s pray. Lt Commander O’Doyle looked out across the bridge one last time. Looked at his own true love, helplessly scream, she had survived worse in the past, a skilled team of medics pieced her back together, Lt Commander O’Doyle had refused to leave her side. The turbo lift doors, where about to close. O’Doyle flashed a look at the rest of the bridge crew and in a spit second he jumped through the doors, just before they closed, he heard the call of his Captain, calling him to come back. It was two late now. O’Doyle and his lover would be together until they die. He couldn’t ever live without her, there would never be another. O’Doyle stroked her, gently but still assuring her that it would be okay. It was not. He did not want her to fear in her remaining minutes. He wanted to remind her of when they met, of there time together. “Self Destruct in 3 minutes” Now alone on the bridge O’Doyle broke down in tears, she deserved more than this. Her life was cut short, to Dara that was unfair. His love for her had kept him from his career. He had been offered positions all over the fleet, but he chose to stay as the helmsman of the USS Dakota. O’Doyle closed his eyes and thought of the happy times that he and his lover had had together, but his mind was focused on the present. Opening his eyes he say escape pods and shuttles on the view screen, he knew that she could see them to. Her friends and comrades would survive, but they would leave her but not O’Doyle. His love for her kept him from so much in the past and know he would die because of it. “Self Destruct in 10 Seconds” O’Doyle closed his eyes once more, this time tight. “9, 8, 7, 6” All the time O’Doyle had known here he had never proclaimed his love, the feeling gripped him on the inside like the hangmans noose. “5, 4, 3” O’Doyle, stood up and looked around. “2” He opened his mouth “1” “Dakota… I love…” Lt JG Jorus Cogud Helmsman USS Discovery-C
  7. Warp core is breaching Just panic on the whole deck Will we contain it Polorise the hull? My console just exploded Get a medic now A tear in subspace A transporter just gone wrong My Hypo-spanner! "Evacuate now Let me contain the core breach" "Sir, the doors are jammed" "The Geffories Tubes It is the only way out Go, go, go, go, go" My hand is bleeding Engineering is empty I am now alone Silence on the deck "Captain to engineering What is going on" "Warp core is breaching Transporters are offline And a subspace tear" "How long till the breach" "I am guessing ten minutes" "Can you contain it" "In five minutes sir" "I will expect it in two" "Ok I will have..." "OK Make it so" Warp core breach in 7 minutes "Yes sir, aye aye sir" Wrestle with the controls I will fight until the end Got to stop the breach I am the tamer My console a fierce lion I have to tame it Lives on my shoulders The fate of the entire ship I'll eject the core I have done it The warp core floating in space I'm an engineer END ---- Lt JG Jorus Cogud Helmsman USS Discovery-C
  8. (( Eagle's Roost, USS Discovery-C )) :: Valdivia entered the Roost somewhat nervous. Although he was sure she wouldn't blame him at all, he still felt he owed her an apology. He took a deep breath and approached Sister Cruella. :: VALDIVIA: Sister, may I speak with... CRUELLA: ::interrupting him:: I was just thinking of you! What a charming synchronicity. Perhaps fate has brought you to me? ::The Chief Science Officer began forming a syllable as though to interject, but she continued.:: But these surroundings seem dull - People eating everywhere. Would you be so gracious as to accompany me? I was thinking of the Astrometrics Laboratory. ::The Reman woman carefully articulated the destination in her musical voice.:: :: Valdivia was a little surprised at first. For being cut midsentence, but specially for her proposal. After all, he was there when the darkening of the Roost had been planned, because she wasn't comfortable in direct light. :: :: There was something about her, something that was different. Perhaps enthusiasm significantly altered her features? No, that wasn't it -- not the most noticeable alteration. Color. Her alabaster white face had the faintest blush of pink from within. :: VALDIVIA: Are you sure? The rest of the ship is not as dark as this place. CRUELLA: I am feeling ..hale. Besides my ..vigorous health, I believe you suggested a protective set of lenses - "sunglasses". :: Valdivia smiled and nodded, glad she remembered about his idea, and they left the room. :: (( en route, Astrometrics Lab )) :: The Reman woman moved with only a trace of hesitation through the corridors. Although her garb was as funereal as ever, Valdivia noticed that it was slimmer, less shapeless than the layered shroud she constantly wore behind the bar. Perhaps it was her casual attire? :: :: They walked and Valdivia slowly started to fall behind, doubts filling his mind. :: :: Cruella paused, and turned to regard her escort. The wizened face looked kindly up at he man. If it were not for her Reman features, she could have passed for a typical grandmother. But the bat ears which poked from beneath her shawl and sunglasses suggested her unusual nature. :: CRUELLA: ::She walked to close the distance between them.:: Does something burden you? What is it? ::She carefully concealed her ears once more.:: VALDIVIA: I... I heard about what happened. Are you ok? CRUELLA: Oh, my dear child! ::She grasped his hand, her own grip unpleasantly like icy steel cables.:: I knew you were different than most scientists, but to be compassionate as well as possessed of a ..conscience -- Truly a remarkable, young man. ::She released him.:: You must forgive my familiarity, please. ::She trilled her apology.:: I forget sometimes how cold I must seem. VALDIVIA: I am sorry I got you involved in this. :: The man's rueful expression told his heart as plainly as any telepath could have read. Rather than subject him to further chilling contact, the old woman compromised, approached as near as she dared. Lowering her glasses, their dark eyes met, bridged the remaining distance. :: CRUELLA: ::Her voice sounded of a music box, the clear tones as though this tune had been repeated before and always the same.:: I am flattered that you so concern yourself with my well-being. I do wish that everyone were as considerate. I shall be fine. ::Her voice regained its more fluid meter.:: In ..honesty I find myself still thrilled that you thought of me. ::She smiled with ghastly fangs.:: Never regret your decision. I don't. VALDIVIA: ::smiling. :: Somehow, I knew you wouldn't. But still... I'm sorry. It is not your duty, but yet when we needed you... :: The Reman vampire felt a greater shadow over the Chief Science Officer. He did not disbelieve her words. No, the feeling was of sorrow, a regret older than his relationship with the bartender. Appreciating the burden of sorrow acutely, she took on a solemn, more maternal posture. :: CRUELLA: This goes beyond the two of us. Tell me, what troubles you? You have my ear. :: Valdivia reflected on the question for several seconds before answering. He had not thought about that for a long time. :: VALDIVIA: On my first mission... we were boarded. Two enemies that used energy weapons entered the science lab. I thought I could overload their weapons, and did so, creating an energy field in the lab with the same frequency. One of their weapons exploded, killing the attacker. But the other one saw the effect, and hurled the weapon at a crewman. It exploded near him. CRUELLA: Do you recollect this crew-man's name? VALDIVIA: I do remember. Lieutenant Raharu. He lost his eyes, and had them replaced by artificial ones. He... returned to Earth after that. CRUELLA: And you were left with guilt. Raharu blamed you for his eyes, and he departed. VALDIVIA: Blame me? He even called me a hero, saying we could all be dead if those Saurians wouldn't have been stopped. It made it even more difficult. CRUELLA: Not an uncommon paradox - to fabricate guilt even after absolution. We often assume more responsibility than is our part. And Raharu leaving the ship, you felt survivor's guilt, striking the man as a casualty even though he lived and walked. But you walked on as well, ever on. Maturing as an officer of peace. VALDIVIA: It took me some time, but in the end I saw he was somehow right. But each time I have to make a decision in a rush, or imply someone else, without testing or discussion, this moment still pops to mind. :: Cruella was initially taken by the sinful irony of killing someone by turning their weapon against them. As she thought of Valdivia's crisis of escaping unscathed and forgiven, her thoughts began wandering. :: CRUELLA: You acted with the best of intentions. It is still ..tragic, that some had to suffer and die. oO Violence, always fragmenting into further violent acts. Oo VALDIVIA: I'm really glad nothing serious happened to you, sister. CRUELLA: You know, every time I can be of use, I feel a bit less empty. ::a mournful bell tolling:: My eyes have seen lives burn bright, and crackling turn to ash. These withered old bones have done much. Good, at times, but I have acted in ..haste, at times. :: Less used to telepathic reading, now Cruella understood a bit more of the exchange that was conversation. Instead of offering thoughts in exchange, talking required painting a picture with words. There were times the Reman hesitated to reflect upon, felt ill about voicing aloud. :: VALDIVIA: Are you thinking about something in particular? CRUELLA: It was so long ago, and we were just getting along.. ::The musical notes faded, her words trailing off.:: :: They entered the lift for last leg of their jaunt to the lab. Unsure of the meaning of her last choice of words, Valdivia looked long at the little woman. Sister Cruella appeared to be reliving her past regardless of his prompting. Whistling whispers came from her, and when she would stop for a while her hand moved up to her face. :: VALDIVIA: Do you... want to talk about it? CRUELLA: ::sharply:: Oh! ::in a rising overture:: I feel I ought to confide in you, at the least we will be on equal terms. Equality of an unpleasant sort. My dear, innocent boy, I.. I do not know what you may think of me after I have told my tale. ::In the darker Turbolift, she removed her shades. Her eyes, haunted eyes, looked into him once more. There was fear there, real fear.:: VALDIVIA: You don't have to. But I'm willing to listen. CRUELLA: I was a girl, really only a girl. Lost in my ..the last foolish tatters of romantic hope, they still clung to my budding womanhood. How terrible for.. it was terrible that these last remnants of ignorant ideals ::She looked away as she said it.:: wrapped themselves over my eyes. ::aside, almost to herself:: My judgement was usually so sound. I was most prudent of my friends. ::she continued:: I was a young fool. VALDIVIA: It's hard to imagine you... :: too late, he noticed the implied meaning. :: err... being a fool, I mean. :: What he really meant, however, wasn't lost to her. She smiled again, but there was a beauty unmarred by fangs this time. Her teeth were orderly, more Terran. Rather than fangs curving toward eerie translucence like a deep sea fish, her smile was of pleasant, white teeth. :: CRUELLA: Oh, it is not so difficult to imagine. Just open your mind to the possibility. :: Before his eyes, she transformed. She was no longer a withered woman wearing a concealing pile of black and several life times' worth of wrinkles. :: :: A young Reman woman, really still a girl growing into her adult features stood tall where Sister Cruella had been. Most shocking of her transformation was that she was taller than Valdivia, imposing even. Her curves had the pert edges and firmness which came from being atop athletic muscle. She wore a coarse shift in fading maroon, with some threadbare patches finally beyond mending. Her clothes were actually a bit too small for her which made her seem a bit younger. The shawl (with large ears pointing up under it) did little to hide the woman's gaunt face, regarding Valdivia with open friendliness. Her soulful eyes had another character entirely - where he was used to seeing a sad understanding and acceptance there was none. Her eyes were filled with wild passion as only youth could possess. :: CRUELLA: Youth or madness. ::apologetic:: Forgive my intrusion. Nature is difficult to renounce in part, more so than refusing it wholly. VALDIVIA: This is... oO Impossible? A trick? Telepathy? Actual transformation? Oo ... impressive. :: The more robust, considerably younger Reman woman continued. Though faint, there was color in her animated face and hands. The melody of Cruella's voice seemed much more at home coming from her young self. :: CRUELLA: A young healer, well skilled in the techniques and meager resources Reman women developed since we resolved to live. Living in the dark pit, the mines of Remus. VALDIVIA: I can't even begin to imagine. Was it hard? CRUELLA: For the young it was, mostly. An idea remained, one of justice. That the Romulans would pay their due to us, and that we would be free to the stars. ::sulky:: Free as we had been when our people first came to settle Romulus and Remus. :: With relived passion of youth, tempered by the sober wisdom of hindsight, she told her tale. Unlike most Remans, she had been able to leave their abyssal world. Unfortunately, she had become taken with the powerful warrior Cenarius. Her love stuck her to the evil man's side, and by him she wandered far astray. The horrors, some completely pointless, Cenarius' loyal band perpetrated. The filthy lust and borderline abandon of the vampire bachanals caused Cruella to color a little, withdrawing from recounting the base details now as she had reserved herself from the morally degraded acts she witnessed in her past. She had succumbed to being a vampire with the rest of the Orcus Sect, but unlike the riotous blood suckers she somehow, against all she knew, believed she could bring them back around to more noble goals. By the time Sister Cruella had finished, they were lingering outside of the Astrometrics Lab. :: :: There was undoubtedly more to her tale, but more than enough had been recounted. Valdivia, however, mesmerized by her tale, and specially by her telling it, was in shock for a couple of seconds when she stopped. :: VALDIVIA: oO Why...? Oh! Oo Oh! Welcome to Astrometrics. simmed by Lt.Cmdr John Valdivia Chief Science Officer USS Discovery-C and Sister Cruella (PNPC) Bartender The Eagle's Roost as simmed by Lt.Cmdr. Inarr "Steve" Rogg d'Squamos Chief Engineering Officer USS Discovery-C
  9. Jorus Cogud emerged from the airlock, he breathed in the air and looked around Starbase 118, it was the real thing, he was becoming a true member of Starfleet. He originated from Trill, he was roughly 6ft tall with a trimmed beard his eyes where a deep shade of green and his hair well groomed. His spots running down the side of him made him feel extremely proud of his heritage, he was the first member of his family to join Starfleet and felt an obligation to do well and give his family a name that would be recognized throughout the Federation. After much consideration Jorus decided to go and look around the vast station he was in, his flawless uniform seemed to glisten in the hustle and bustle of the station. Jorus looked around and noticed something immediately, a Ferengi Merchant was trying to sell fake Rubies to a Cadet, he knew they where fake because his uncle was a conman and taught Jorus many things about the trade. He slowly closed in on the Merchant and the Cadet. "Pardon me but, are those rubies real?" Jorus questioned the Ferengi. "Real, these rubies are as real as my lobes" The Merchant replied quickly. "Then your lobes must be fake, these aren't rubies, they are salt crystals died red." Jorus informed the Cadet, picking one up and crushing it with ease in his hands. Jorus was about to say something else to the Merchant but he had gone. "Thanks, you saved me alot there." The cadet said to Jorus, he was human and looked very fresh out of the academy, he was the only person with a more flawless uniform than Jorus "No problem, the names Jorus Cogud, and you?" "I'm James Aubery Stark" "What brings you to Starbase 118?" Jorus asked "I am assigned here for some hands on experience in a station, you?" James asked "I am preparing for my first assignment via the training program" Jorus explained "Good luck, I gotta go the Commander wants to see me" James said "Nice to meet you Mr. Stark" "You to Mr.Cogud and thanks again" James Stark stood up, entering the traffic of the station. Jorus looked around the station and caught a glimpse of a clock. It was time. Name - Jorus Cogud Species - Trill Height - 6ft Eye Colour - Green Hair Colour - Dark Brown
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