Sal Taybrim

I haven't even had a chance to read it and I know it's gonna be awesome.

Congrats and welcome to the fleet!

We are livin' the Klingon dream...

this whole post was riveting... but I especially loved this bit:

I really enjoyed writing that! I'm also a bit mystified at what the naughty-word filter on the forums considers the French word for 'false' to be a swear...

Congrats you guys, and welcome to SB118!!

Congratulations, guys! Great work, and hope you enjoy your new postings!

Hear hear! Good luck Collin! You'll do great!

(( Weapons Evidence Laboratory – Security Complex, Starbase 118 Operations Tower )) :: Seven hours. That’s how long Sanara Pran had been sat inspecting the weapons seized from the marauder Krayvet. Seven hours of tedious scanning, tagging and bagging- or some cases binning. For what amounted to a handful of Orion privateers, they had amassed a collection of weapons so large, it would make a Klingon battalion jealous. Some were standard Orion crafted knives, designed to be hidden from view discreetly, there were several ceremonial Klingon knives that Sanara swore smelt of dried blood, an assortment of Reman daggers and even a Jem’Hadar kar’takin. The fact that these men had possibly killed a Jem’Hadar warrior was disturbing. Or it would have been if Sanara had not of lost the will to live. As she placed another weapon under the scanner and peered into the viewing hood to examine it for possible identification marks or striations, she sighed heavily, hoping that it was not too long until the end of her shift. Checking the chronometer in the corner of the hood, she groaned as she realised she had another three hours till she was due to finish. Leaning back up, she got to her feet and yawned, rubbing the back of her neck. The tiredness was real. Making her way across the evidence lab, she came to a stop in front of the replicator. :: Pran: Shot of espresso. Computer: Please choose from one of the sixty seven different flavours of espresso. :: Rolling her eyes, she let out another sigh, as the replicator displayed a list of all the available flavours. All she wanted was something to keep awake, rather than a thousand and one questions with the replicator. She pressed a flavour at random without paying it much mind, hoping it would be pleasant and not targ-flavoured. :: Computer: Thankyou. :: beat :: Please select from the selection of available cup designs. :: That elicited another audible groan from the tired and now irked security officer. :: Pran: Computer, I don’t care what kind of cup my espresso comes with, or the kind of espresso I have. I just want an espresso!! Computer: Please restate request. Pran: :: to herself :: Trillus preserve me. :: beat :: I have no preference, surprise me. Computer: Understood. Cup design will be randomised. :: beat :: Please specify temperature. Pran: :: the last nerve gave in, and she looked at the replicator with a loathesome look. :: I. don’t. CARE. :: beat :: Why am I being asked a million questions? Why can’t you just give me a regular espresso?! Computer: It is help you make an informed choice. Pran: :: snapping :: My choice is this: regular espresso, hot…. And I don’t care about the cup design. It could have a seh’lat dancing to Lady Shadonna on it for all I care. :: The computer chirped affirmatively and the tired security officer snatched the drink from the replicator pad and downed the bitter beverage in one gulp, before putting the cup down on the pad again with a dark scowl. With another heavy sigh, she returned to the scanner and carried on with her tedious assignment. :: -- Lieutenant Sanara Pran (Disgruntled) Security Officer Starbase 118 Operations as simmed by: Lieutenant Commander Theo Whittaker Executive Officer StarBase 118 Ops C239203TW0

Ummm, Moby the hairless tribble? Falcon's Hamster? 5 year old Tyva Dal? I think anyone in a uniform is doomed, though!

#CorruptionoftheInnocent Story at 8.

Good answer!

((No'Vok Prime)) ::Ashes and death. That was all that was left of the small settlement on No'vok Prime, the air still hung heavy with the stink of the bodies of the fallen and the shattered husks of buildings draped in a pall of black, pungeant smoke. There were no survivors to the merciless and brutal attack, only the steady pinging of the automatic distress call that had echoed out of the colony's central communication centre before being little more then another hiss in the background radiation of the system. Dempok's boots crunched in the shattered debris. Where once was six thousand Klingon civilians and workers, there was now nothing save for the last dregs clinging to the sole of his foot. The attack had been unprovoked, unwarranted and a complete act of barbarity that made even his own veteran stomach churn:: Warrior: Councillor, we have found it. ::Dempok turned, his beard flicking in the light breeze as he narrowed his eyes to make out the figure of his small away team clutching a metal box. The last recorded moments of what had been a bustling hive of progress, locked inside the resilient data recorder that every ship, starbase and base carried with them:: Dempok: Good. ((IKS S’Tarahk)) ::There was nothing more to say, no ears to hear the silent prayer he offered the departed to guide them to Sto-Vo-Kor, not that their spirits would find peace, fell in a way that didn't fit the aspirations of any warrior or true citizen of the Empire. The burning vestige mercifully vanished in a red haze, replaced with the dark metal interior of the S’Tarahk's transporter bay. The Warriors took the device with them, no doubt towards the ships computer core as Dempok strode towards the bridge of the narrow Vor'Cha cruiser, his thoughts marred with the sense of anger boiling through his veins. There would be a price to pay for this, a terrible one that would be wrought with his ships disruptor cannons or preferably by his own D'k tahg should the enemy offer an honourable fight, which he doubted.:: Science Officer: The box has been connected, we have the last few minutes of sensor readings, vocal... it is heavily damaged, Sir. ::Dempok gestured towards the viewscreen with a gauntlet-ted finger, the fuzzy image of a Klingon woman appearing suspended in time. Governer Krell, if he remembered correctly. She'd bravely stepped up to offer to administer the colony, despite knowing how deep it was into the frontier, her pioneering spirit would be remembered:: Krell: ..der attack! Coun.... casual... ::The screen froze again, skipping ahead a few moments before the computer finally peiced together what little remained into someting more coherent.:: Krell: This is Goverenor Krell to any imperial ships in range, we are under attack! We have countless casualites... this, this is responsible! ::The screen jumped again to another fuzzy image, slowly coming into focus. A large green blur finding clarity, ice forming in Dempok's chest as he slammed his fist down on his seats large armrest.:: Dempok: D'Deridex... Krell: They are not responding to hails, our planetary batteries are having no effects! We need h- ::There was an explosion, a scream, then nothing save for the Imperial emblem and numbers rolling across the bottom of the screen giving the last telemetry. Energy spikes, temperature readings elevating sharply as the emergency control centre was reduced to constituent atoms.:: Tekal: The Romulans! Honorless dogs... our colony was defenceless! ::His first officer snarled in rage, standing to his flank as Dempok continued to look at the now empty screen.:: Dempok: How many ships do we have in range? Science Officer: None Councillor. The IKS Varaktyl is five days away at maximum warp, B'rel class. ::Woefully inadequate support, a Bird of Prey would do little more then shatter like glass under the warbirds firepower:: Dempok: Did anyone else receive the signal we just triggered? Tekal: The message was sent to high-command automatically as per your instruction. ::By now he had no doubt that the dogs of war were baying in the council's chambers. The same ones that had sent him post-haste to investigate the mysterious signal now validated in their grave concerns. He'd let them watch the results right along with him and rapidly his screen flashed up once again with the grim face of General Crang, the regional imperial military commander. Crang: The Romulans?! What cause would they have to attack us... this cannot go unpunished! Dempok: It doesn't stand to reason, General. None of this does. A single Warbird, attacking an unarmed colony. The Romulans are cowardly and devious I fully agree, but surely they are not this foolhardy... Crang: We may argue if they are or not, but a world of the Empire burns! The evidence speaks for itself, Councillor. Dempok: It does, General. I too wish to avenge every citizen and child of the colony. I can only offer a word of caution, the Romulans are in no position to start a war... ::Crang ignored him, his loud voice barked orders off screen as Dempok lent forward in his chair, fingers steeped. Everything seemed wrong, yet so line with the hit and run attacks a broken Empire would attempt against their adversary if they wanted a war. Hit and run, strike from the shadows... but the choice of target was what caused him concern. No'Vok was a farming world, of no strategic importance. It wasn't local enough to serve as a staging area, it didn't have defences or materials worth more then any average ore. Which meant, it was little more then a target of opportunity. Which meant they -wanted- someone to come and investigate, it was a distraction.:: Crang: The Second and Fifth Imperial Fleets are mobilising as we speak on a war footing Councillor. They will arrive within six days, either stand and defend or get your ship away from there. If it is war the Romulans want, we shall be ready and we will -break- them. Dempok: I will remain General. I may be a politician, but I am a Warrior by birth. ::Crang rewarded him with a begrudging nod of approval before the communication line closed.:: Dempok: Commander, engage cloaking device and sound general quarters. I want every frequency, every communication monitored for any sign of attack. ::For once Tekal nodded, foregoing his usual hot-hotheadedness, before issuing his orders as the ship descended into a noise of klaxons and flickering lights. He muttered quietly under his breath, a single passage from the famed Klingon author who wordsmith-ed war like a tapestry:: Dempok: "Sound trumpets, let our bloody colours wave. And either victory, or else a grave". ::Peace, that had reigned for decades, was beginning to crumble and he was there on the cusp of the wave about to crash upon them all:: MSPNC Councillor Dempok By Major. Tatash Marine Lead SB118 Operations C239108T10

Smothering Betazoid relatives? Must be a universal constant...

Congrats and welcome to the fleet! Hope you guys have a great voyage in the stars!

Congrats you guys, and welcome to the fleet! Glad to have you here!

::gasp!:: It's not?! Say it ain't so!

He can get parenting advice from Major Dal... I smell a sitcom in the making

Maybe that's my master plan...

Congratulations, guys! You did a fantastic job!

For me I think it really depends on the story and the scope. I love sympathetic villains. I love them so much that I'm a big fan of anti-hero stories or heel-face turns. That said, sometimes you don't want the villain to be sympathetic. You want it to be wholly cathartic when this monster is taken down. I still try to make my villains understandable - you can rationally understand what made them this way; but you'll never like them or root for them. Someone like Joffrey from GoT - intellectually you "get" why he's such a horrible person, but that doesn't matter. You hate him, and you will cheer when he gets what's coming to him. I admit, I'm attached to making the second kind of villain as well. I consider it a 'win' when a villain is so memorable yet hateable that the PCs are queuing up to take them down...

(( Theo Whittaker's Apartment - New York District, Starbase 118 Commercial Sector )) (( Time Index: 'The Event' +5 Hours )) ::Having hobbled her way from the hallway to the little island in the kitchen, Mirra had laid her head against to cool marble in a failed attempt to quite the pounding. oO So cold...cold is good...Oo bits and pieces of the night prior tried to float to the surface of her memory, only to be banished back again by the pounding.:: Whittaker: What on earth happened last night? Tatash: I.. I don't know. ::he paused, letting out a belch followed by a broad wince on his snout. That was dangerously close to the mark:: Ezo: ::glancing up, her head still firmly against the cool marble:: I have no idea...anyone know why I'm dressed like this...? Whittaker: The last thing I remember was.... :: he looked at Tatash :: the blue stuff. What in the name of all that is holy was that? Tatash: Romulan Ale, the very, very illegal kind. I think I'd take a court martial over this hangover. ::She was never drinking again. Blue stuff, green stuff, any stuff. This was horrific.:: Ezo: ::groaning loudly:: It should be illegal to be in this much pain.... Whittaker: :: giving a voice to the other thought, as he pointed towards the ceiling :: And what is Lady Shadonna doing in my bed? ::Still slightly inebriated it seemed, Mirra couldn't help the bemused snicker that escaped her:: Ezo: I don't know Theo...shouldn't you be telling US why a diva is in your bed...? Whittaker: Oh don't be so ridiculous. :: beat :: We were sleeping fully clothed. :: And it then it hit him, the reason why he was drinking. Baylen was gone. :: Besides... Baylen... ::Mirra let out a pained moan, that's right. Baylen. This was entirely his fault. If she ever laid eyes on him again she was going to flick him seriously hard in the nose.:: Whittaker: So... what did happen last night? Tatash: I remember... something about needing a new outfit, so.... ::he paused, eyes widening, looking at the assorted carrier bags dotted around the floor mingling with the discarded takeaway cartons as they moved into the other room. All of them bore the names of the designers shops near his apartment. There was a good chance all of them were a lot poorer this morning:: We got changed at.. my place? I think? Then went out... You might want to check your bank accounts. ::Sitting up gingerly, she clutched the bar as the room spun momentarily. Once the extra rotations stopped, she glanced over at Tatash, who appeared to be wearing the remains of a new outfit oO Wait...did he always only have one shoe..? Oo Ezo: ::grumbles:: Explains why I'm dressed like a Dabo showgirl...I guess... ::Watching Theo hobble with his cane, she got a flash of memory of her having it at some point in the night. oO Oh no...did I steal his cane?? Oo She managed to slip off the bar-stool and not fall to the floor as she slunk after Theo, who carried the precious coffee.:: Whittaker: Somebody was dancing to Klingon Electro Music..... Tatash: Mirra... oh no, sweetheart it was us...::He paused, cringing so hard internally he could have exploded into a mess of embarrassment and self loathing:: Wait, I think we -met- Shadonna at the club. ::She was mid-pouring cream into her coffee when she froze. The memory came slamming back with near enough force to knock her back into the cushions of the couch. She, atop Tatash's shoulders, having somehow procured Theo's cane and thrusting it out wildly while shouting "Onward!! Into battle noble steed!!!":: Ezo: ::squeaking:: Oh...dear Gods...what have we done...? H-how did we get home...? Tatash: I have no idea, I think that was the last part of our collective sanity. Everything after that is just a blur, a noisy blur. Evidently we really, really wanted a Klingon kebab. ::So mortified by the recollection, she hadn't noticed the cream having overflowed from her cup and into her lap. Glancing down she quickly set down the creamer and her now sloshing coffee cup, standing in a flash. The wave of nausea nearly bringing her down to her knees.:: Whittaker: Response? Ezo: ::covering her face with her hands:: Did...I try and knight you both...? ::peaking between her fingers, she tried to inspect both of them for busing around their neck or shoulders as she was certain her aim with the "walking saber" would be less than ideal. Thankfully, she found none.:: Tatash: No one has a meeting with Sal today I hope? Whittaker: Response? ::If she did, it was a meeting to resign her commission, change her name, move back to Betazed and become and Uttaberry farmer. She could never show her face on this station ever again, as memories of last night's encounter began to slowly trickle in.:: Tatash: Can't you just magic this away Mirra? Ezo: ::glaring, and snapping in irritation:: I'm a doctor, not a magician! Whittaker/Tatash: Response? ::While Mirra curled up on the mammoth couch, clutching her head in an attempt to banishing the angry buzzing of the seriously [...]ed off space bees trapped in her skull, she became aware of the lyrical humming coming from the direction of Theo's bedroom. It appeared, the 4th member of their little pity-party turned chaos-crew was about to join them. Peeking through her fingers, she grimaced in unabashed jealously as Lady Shadonna came flouncing down the hall, humming cheerily. She looked perfectly polished and well rested, even if wearing a pair of men's pajamas. Stepping into the room with a wide grin, she clapped her multi-digited hands merrily.:: Shadonna: Good Morning Sunshines!! ::pausing, she got a playful smirk on her face while making a deep bow:: My sincerest apologies to you, your royal highness's, How dare I address the royal family of Sass-katchewan in such an informal manner... Whittaker/Tatash: Response? ::Staring in blank confusion, Mirra had sat up, leaning back heavily on the couch for support and stared.:: Ezo: The...uh...what now? Shadonna: ::batting her lashes innocently:: Oh? Don't you recall? You informed myself, and everyone else that you, my dear were the ruling queen of Sass-Katchewan, Capital city of planet Sass in Quadrant of Shade and dear Theo was your crowned King...::bowing deeply towards Tatash:: And we cannot forget, your noble brother in arms, King of the warriors, Tatash the mighty. ::giggles softly:: Ezo: ::blinking slowly:: We...did...that? Whittaker/Tatash: Response? Shadonna: ::nodding emphatically:: Oh yes my loves, Mirra dear, you attempted to "knight" half the patrons of the club before King Theo managed to regain control of his "Walking Scepter" Whittaker/Tatash: Response? ::Shadonna laughed merrily. Having found herself a security detail, she had made her way towards the hopping nightclubs that the base had to offer, only to run into none other than the debonair Theo, being escorted by the flame haired doctor and her rather dashing Gorn soldier. They had all been several sheets to every proverbial wind imaginable, and having rediscovered her newfound sense of empathy towards others, decided keeping the trio out of harms way was far more important, (and entertaining), than any club scene. Thankfully, she had managed to talk both Mirra and Tatash OUT of heading to the Qo'noS district to sign up for tag-team cage fighting at the bar called "The Bat'leth". It had been a most diverting evening. Realizing the time, she had another engagement she was about to be late for. With a heavy sigh, she began to make her farewells, Stepping over to Tatash, holding on the his reclining chair as if his life depended upon it, ran a finger down the side of his face with a sassy wink:: Shadonna: My wild man...if you should ever find yourself...bored with this whole...Starfleet life, do give me a call. I would absolutely love to have you as an addition to my security team. Tatash: Response? ::Making her way towards the crumpled form of the flame haired doctor, she bent and spoke low:: Shadonna: Mirra my love, your dancing, while not atop my dear wild man, was certainly divine. I'll be keeping you in mind for my holo-video for the next single. ::Looking up with horrified wonder, what the Diva said barely registered as Mirra was already planning her resignation and what new name she'd pick when she fled the station for home oO Sally. Sally is a good name, doesn't sound a thing like Mirra...Oo Shadonna: ::picking up Duchess and turning towards Theo:: Theo, my dearest love, escort me to the door, won't you? Whittaker: Response? ::Sashaying her way out of the spacious living room towards the door, she turned and faced the disheveled looking officer. She fixed him with a kind smile and began adjusting the collar of his rumpled shirt.:: Shadonna: ::whispering conspiratorially:: Don't worry, not a thing happened last night other than sleep, ::giving a saucy smirk:: not that I would have complained if it had... Whittaker: Response? Shadonna: ::laughing, she placed a hand on his cheek tenderly:: Thank you, Commander Theo Whittaker. For saving my life...and in doing so...helping me find myself again...who I was...before the diva. I missed her. And I look forward to reacquainting myself. ::she leaned forward and gave him a sweet kiss on the forehead.:: You are a great man, and a fine officer. I expect to hear great things from you. ::sighing reluctantly:: Now, if you'll excuse me, I have an appointment at an exclusive spa I simply cannot miss. Whittaker: Response? ::Catching his somewhat dubious look at her remark, she laughed merrily and slapped him playfully on the shoulder:: Shadonna: Oh no my darling, it's not for me, ::holding up Duchess:: It's for her! Turns out she's the real diva... ::With a wink and a blown kiss, she flounces gracefully out of the Sky Palace. Having missed their little exchange at the door, it appeared Mirra had lost interest in waiting, and had somehow crawled over the couch and into Tatash's lap, curling up like a small child, and promptly passed out.:: ------------------------------------- Lady Shadonna Diva & Lieutenant Mirra Ezo, MDChief Medical Officer Starbase 118 OpsC239205ME0

Ooooh, I can just feel the rage...

Yanno, we can totally plan for this in an upcoming mission. Just sayin' ...

I found this one which seems to suit the occasion...