Karrod Niac

Welcome to the fleet @tahna.meru!

This sim is great on its own merits, but the fact that @Tony, aka Kells & @Alex Brodie explored these difficult topics in the midst of a tremendous amount of real world stress makes it especially personal and touching to me. Bravo to you both.

Welcome aboard!

Really fantastic work on this one, especially from our newest member Ens. Jehe Saja. Excited to see your name already showing up over here in Appreciations, I'm certain it won't be the last time!

OOC: I've really enjoyed exploring the line between the serious side of Teller's character against his more jokey nature, and Alieth has been an absolute pleasure to write with. It's also allowed me to revisit some of Teller's early antics and the impact other officers have had on him. Been a real pleasure - thanks @Alieth! =========================================== ((XO's office, Deck 1, USS Thor)) Alieth: Sir... I am truly sorry for what happened. And I will strive not to disgrace this uniform again... nor the ideas and people it represents. Commander teller nodded gravely,the brief smile that had brightened up his features, gone. Teller: See that you don't, Lieutenant. I'm a firm believer in second chances. Not third chances. Understood? Geoff's voice was sharp and clear. There was no hostility or malice in it, but the note of warning was obvious. The young Vulcan didn't need any repetition of the query and answered promptly. Alieth: Yes, sir, I do. Then, Teller stood, and the awareness of danger which even the firmest instruction in the Logic had failed to eradicate suddenly became activated in her mind. She frowned faintly, dreading what would come next. Teller: Oh there's one other thing - mentioned in the report. The tattoo. Lets see it. The Vulcan's face became suddenly pale and then shifted to a bright green Alieth: Sir... ::the human remained unruffled:: ...Mister Teller… ::She swallowed before appealing to her last resort::Geoffrey John, I… I doubt that will be necessary. Her attempt failed disastrously. Teller: "Starfleet uniform code regulation 231, Paragraph J, Subsection 3 - Should any active duty personnel receive cosmetic body modifications without first seeking authorization from their commanding officer, said personnel must submit to a command inspection of same prior to returning to duty to verify it poses no impediment or hazard to the performance of said duties." If you prefer, I could ask Fleet Captain Kells to come by and take care of it. After she had ensnared the Captain in a trap during their last mission the last thing she needed to make a 'perfect' impression was him discovering... THAT. Alieth: No-no sir, that will not be necessary. She pouted before the diabolical usage of regulation against her. Despite this, she took off her jacket and pulled back the sleeve of her shirt until her left shoulder blade became visible. As the commander's eyes settled on the sharp Klingon letters, he laughed, and she turned even greener. Teller: No impediment or hazard here, I think. If anything, it might serve as a good warning label. As you were, Lieutenant. She opened her mouth. She closed it. She opened it again, her face even greener as before, and finally decided that silence was a valid retort to that outrageous comment, as she threw the uniform jacket over her shoulders once more. As Alieth made a hasty retreat for the office door, Geoff rolled up the left sleeve of his uniform jacket. , The movement halted her flight and she turned around slightly just to see how Geoff pulled his sleeve all the way up and exposed his left bicep. Teller: We all make mistakes, Lieutenant. For example, this tattoo? The Vulcan's eyes locked on .... THAT. For an instant they wandered up to the face of the First Officer, disbelief percolating through the cracks in her broken dignity, but they hopelessly returned to focus on the voluptuous depiction of a dark-skinned woman on top of a Veritas Class in the First Officer's ashy arm. Alieth: Sir?!?!?!?!? How?!?!?! WHEN?!?!?!?! Why I did not know .... !?!?! ::The questions piled up on the tip of Alieth's tongue until she was finally able to summarize them into one:: WHY?! Teller: Well, in the original version, Captain Rahman wasn't...::Geoff coughed, momentarily embarrassed::...in uniform. This lead to some...serious professional awkwardness. If Lt. Jg. Teller can learn from that, you can learn from this. ::Geoff wiggled his bicep and the stylized starship and it's equally stylized Captain seemed to ride an invisible wave.:: The Vulcan's eyes remained firmly anchored to the rolling tattoo for two endless minutes before she regained her ability to speak. Alieth: Yes sir, I will sir. Geoff rolled his sleeve back down, which broke the spell that had petrified the Vulcan doctor until that moment. While Teller headed back behind his desk, she had a few seconds to pull herself together. Teller: That'll be all, Lieutenant. Alieth: Yes, sir. :: She hesitated for a moment and finally (and with the tip of her ears still glowing green) she added:: Thank you, sir. As the doors to his office slid closed Geoff shook his head and chuckled, rubbing his bicep wistfully. Captain Rahman had been right to make him keep it, as she had been about so many other things. Geoff smiled ruefully. oO Of course. Skipper's always right. Oo As soon as she uttered those words, she left the room as fast as she could, ignoring the surprised glances of other crew members when she ran up against them. On her way back to her quarters the only thing she could see in her mind eye was the disproportionately gifted figure of Captain Rahman on her First Officer's bicep. Her mind kept revolving around the question if whether she had previously had other incorrect attributes and her spot pattern had gone all the way down or... That day, and many that followed, every time Alieth tried to meditate or sleep, all he could see was Geoff's white biceps and the little Kriosian that rode it. Each time, she opened her eyes with her ears irremediably dyed green. End of the Scene OOC: boQDu' -> She-devil in klingon ================================= Lt. JG Alieth Medical Officer USS Thor NCC-82607 E239702A10 Image Collective Co-Facilitator Trainee =================================

For all our advancements in technology and medicine, the loss of a friend is still keenly felt by all that knew and served with them. Here, Lt. Jg. Wilde beautifully commemorates the rich service of one such comfy colleague, speeding it upon it's way to Valhalla's basement rec-room. Great job, @Regan Wilde! Funny and touching in equal measure. ============================ ((OOC : You wanted a sofa funeral, you've got a sofa funeral...)) ((USS Arrow - Deck 3; Main Engineering)) {{One Week into Shore Leave}} It was a truly sombre affair. A lot of the battle-damaged consoles hadn’t been fully repaired yet so the whole engineering section had been decorated with black drapes, and the central area held an old fashioned easel which held a large and audacious painting of the Engineering Sofa. The painter, who wished to remain anonymous, obviously had trained in the Romantic school of impressionism, because the painting looked far better than the actual sofa ever did. The sofa had been a devastating casualty in what most of the crew were calling - rather too excitedly - the ‘Battle for Main Engineering’ in the midst of the pirate boarding. The sofa had been used as a makeshift barricade, hidden behind as a shield, hit with many disruptor bolts, been split in two by an exploding duranium engineering door, flattened by the aforementioned door, caught fire from the molten metal on the aforementioned door, and phasered into oblivion. In the centre of the room was a sleek cherry wood podium which on top housed a small, silver urn. The remains of the sofa; well, what was left of the remains, had been ceremonially cremated (if you could actually cremate anything which was already 70% ash and the rest a gloopy mess of fire extinguisher foam and springs), and placed in the urn. Regan stood in front of the warp core, his finest dress uniform complete with black armband cascading the brilliant lights of the warp core against him. He wore a large black pair of dark sunglasses, his hair coiffed expertly. His new synthetic now in place and working, Regan was now back at his best. Beside him Chief Thaon Brom wore a traditional Scottish kilt, complete with sporran, socks, hat, the works. Odd, considering he was a Tellarite and not remotely Scottish in the slightest. Brom solemnly played the bagpipes as the rest of the guests milled into engineering. Regan was going to ask where he got the bagpipes from but was, quite truthfully, scared of the answer. As the guests entered they shook hands with, or kissed the cheek of Lieutenant Keneth Nakada, who had taken to his role as the grieving widower with aplomb. The sofa had been one of his work colleagues, and in the latter days, closest confidants and companions. Wilde: Dearest crew of the Federation starship Arrow, thank you for coming. My name is Lieutenant Regan Wilde and I’ll be your Master of Ceremonies for today's event. I’d like to start today's proceedings by saying how sorry I am for engineering’s loss of a fine and dedicated piece of furniture. Particularly to Lieutenant Keneth Nakada whom I believe spent more time sleeping on it than he did in his own bed. We mourn and cherish the service the sofa provided to everyone on board. For she was not just a piece of furniture to some. To me she was an eyesore, but I digress. To engineering she was a comrade, not a tool. She offered comfort, protection and relaxation. She even had a little drinks holder in the armrests. The left hand seat reclined out with a footrest, and was covered expertly in fine corinthian leather. Scholars say that in her day she retailed at the princely sum of $699.99, which I’m led to believe was and I quote ::Consulting his PADD.:: ‘Top quality at a bargain price’. ::Beat:: Such a loss. We enter the service of Starfleet in order to better ourselves, to improve humanity's understanding of the universe; and in working with, living with, and indeed loving other species we forge a better, peaceful universe in which we live. Starfleet doesn’t, however, teach you how to live without superior upholstered furniture in your life in circumstances such as these. This sofa seems irreplaceable to the needs of the crew. Indeed, that particular brand of sofa hasn’t been manufactured in this quadrant for at least three hundred and fifty years and I beg Keneth never reveals to me from which space dump he stole it from. Some things must forever remain a mystery. We gather today to pay our respects, to mourn, to comfort each other the only way we can, and to begin a healing process. In my writing of this eulogy I searched through many counselling texts, none of which had any significant information whatsoever to prepare me for the insanity and downright ridiculousness of today. However, I’m grateful that Counselor R’Ariel is around, should anyone need any further assistance. Ladies, gentlemen, honoured androgynous and non-gendered species, I ask you to raise your glasses to ::Checks his PADD, then snickers a little.:: Really? ::Regaining composure:: To Sofia Davenport, the engineering sofa. Who bravely and valiantly gave her springs, so that the ship can live on. Anyone: Responses Wilde: I believe Sofia is survived by a number of scatter cushions, and a manky old throw which was so old and threadbare we cremated that too. We hereby commit Sofia’s remains to the galaxy. Ashes to ashes, stuffing to stuffing. Fly high amongst the stars, Sofia. See you… somewhere out there. Anyone: Responses Wilde: Would anyone like to say a few words before we beam the urn into space? Anyone: Responses TAG! -- Lieutenant(jg) Regan Wilde Security USS Arrow C237708DW0

@Wes Greaves - you continue to paint a vivid and engaging picture of Marine life in Starfleet, and it's details like an amusing running cadence that bring such rich depth to Marine culture. Well done!

Everyone's a critic Great scene guys, I'm glad everyone is having as much fun with it as I am!

As our community has evolved so to have the relationships between players across ships, and I've been delighted to watch the friendship evolve between these two writers both on the page and off. Oh, and speaking from my perspective aboard the Thor - Alieth's new bodyart is 100% accurate. Great work! And now there's going to be so much groundskeeping.

Beat me to it, I enjoyed this one myself. Great job you two!

Iron Captain Geoffrond Tel will purify the enemies of the Imperium with the holy flame of the Emperor's might. Extermanus Guaranteed.

In The Grim Darkness of the Far Future, There is Only War, and the loyal crew of the Overlord class heavy cruiser Thor are all the stand between the Imperium of Man and the endless flood of heresy that besets humanity on all sides. Purge The Heritic. Burn the Xeno. For the Glory of the Emperor! If you haven't guessed by now, the theme for the USS Thor this year is Adeptus Astartes, also known as the Space Marines from the Warhammer 40k universe. Each member of the crew has taken on a Marine persona thanks to the talents of our resident graphics genius, @Sister of Mercy Alethionus, and has a name that is befitting of their rank and position within the great chapters of the Astares. Happy Halloween everybody!

((OOC: This was a lovely and wonderful gesture, delivered just when I needed a bit of good cheer. @Alieth continues to set the bar higher and higher, and the fleet is luck to have her as a member. )) [[Executive Officer's Office, Deck 1, USS Thor]] With malice aforethought, Alieth made her way from the Great Hall through the bowels of the ship to the upper deck, concealing her secret cargo. The few crewmen who had not been able to abandon their duties to attend the party in the lounge gave her astounded glances, not due to the fact that her presence near the bridge was somewhat unusual, but rather because of the quality of surreptitiousness that the minute Vulcan conveyed, even while preserving a perfectly neutral expression. The code she had exchanged with a security crew member gave her access to the first officer's office and, with utmost care, Alieth secured the door behind her so that no one would discover her business there. Once surpassed part of the ever-present mess on the office and the pile of pads that seemed to be multiplying besides on Teller's desk, the Vulcan opened a small space in the middle of the chaos, putting aside a couple of empty coffee mugs and what looked like a half-drunk cup of Vulcan tea. And there, with great care so that it would be the first thing seen as the door swung open, she placed the box. The box was small, barely 6 inchs of black lacquered wood, which seemed to absorb the dim light from the office like a black hole might. On its top cover, a complex design of spirals and circles that she had drawn with delicacy and golden ink stood out on the dark surface, like a solar flare in the solitude of space. Securing the lid was a complex lock. A game of logic that would keep the former engineer's mechanical interest busy for many hours, if Sern did not provide him the trick to open it. Inside, three perfect and delicious golden gummy bears. Gummy bears that Teller would probably never get out of their captivity except with the force of a hammer. The sugary delicacies had been wrapped in a small silk piece, with the same pattern as the lid, a phrase that the ensign Katsim had helped her to embroider on the fragile fabric, raising so many questions and getting so few answers. Rom ar'kadan titaya . The phrase circled twice around the initials of the newly promoted Commander. Pleased with the display, Alieth allowed herself a minute smile, just before she sneaked out of the office with the same malice aforethought with which she had entered. [TBC] OOC: Rom ar'kadan titaya → aprox. Good job guarantee ================================= Lt. JG Alieth Medical Officer USS Thor NCC-82607 Fleet Captain A. Kells, Commanding Author ID number: E239702A10 =================================

This was a lot of laughs to work on and I can't wait to see how it makes a mess of our upcoming mission! Thanks for sharing it with the fleet, @Alora DeVeau and my sincerest thanks to @Alieth & @Quen Deena for helping make this story come alive!

I knew the dame was trouble the minute she walked through the door. Her goodie-two-shoes smile said 'trust me' but her razor sharp gaze screamed 'I'm watching.' The pay was too good, the job sounded too easy, and I knew I should've said no....but then I remembered that the only thing in my pockets was lint and a lousy crushed cigarette. Something told me right then that I'd be the one paying for this.

@Quinn Reynolds & @Jo Marshall - Bravo you two. You managed to make a roadtrip in the family minivan into a nuanced, complex and emotional narrative that works for a lot of reasons. It's well paced, beautifully invoked and has a great balance of humor and heart. Well done

It has been an absolute pleasure bringing this saga to an uplifting conclusion, and a wonderful opportunity to write with the exceptionally talented @Wes Greaves. All of this started with an idea of his making, and I cannot thank him enough for letting me build upon his start. Experiences like this are exactly why I enjoy 118!

Why am I not surprised Sevo punched a dinosaur. Very on brand. great sim!

((OOC: I find one of the most interesting challenges in our format to be creating 'small moments' within the bigger arc of a plot that's going on, and it's why I think this sim deserves particular praise. Alieth has, in a few exquisitely poignant lines, established the simple lives and tragic deaths of nearly half a dozen characters, adding enormous emotional resonance to a scene and using a facet of her Vulcan character in a way I've rarely seen executed so beautifully. Bravo!)) ((Sickbay, Deck 10, USS Thor, Five Hours & Fourty Seven Minutes until QSD Overload)) The patient's breathing was laboured, difficult and arrhythmic inspirations with a wet murmur underneath. His eyelids fluttered like frightened birds, but the few times his eyes opened wide, his empty gaze didn't focus on any particular thing, just minute pupils wandering through a ceiling he couldn't see. Alieth didn't need to check out the data that the biobed was screeching. Instead, she just sat on her bedside, placing the padd in her lap. She took his only hand between her tiny ones. And waited. First, she felt his pain, a searing, excruciating sensation that no modern medication could entirely mitigate. And then, there was the fear. oO I am here. I am with you. Oo oO You are not alone. Oo She held his hands until his chest dropped one last time. Until the last swirl of his mind faded into nothingness, the spark of what had been him gone forever. His name was Raphael Watanabe. He was twenty-six years old. He loved dogs. Four days ago he had managed to convince his roommate to adopt one. Since then, he had spent most of his free time looking for the perfect pup. Eventually, he had decided in favour of a sad-eyed white adult with an even sadder past. He wanted to call her Cheesecake. She let her rigid fingers slip through hers and recovered the padd from her lap. With a mechanical gesture she had performed too many times in the last few hours, she introduced his profile info in the database. And the stardate and hour of the demise. The Vulcan's shoulders sank an extra micron. She wouldn't forget Raphael Watanabe. Just as she wouldn't forget any of the others. All the minds she had last reached out to, to give them some comfort in the very last moments, when there was nothing else she could do. As Thiri zh'Poltal, Petty Officer, 2nd Class, Operations. Today was her day off, but when the disaster struck, she had run to help. Or like Astrid Wethern. Fourteen years old, she was part of the civilian contingent. She had joined the crew in Ferenginar to accompany her father to find out if she was going to be an astrophysicist or a holonovelist when she grew up. For the brief time that the two had shared their minds, Alieth was sure that she would have excelled at both activities. Or like T'Lar, an assistant in the xenobiology department, whose name meant "lady blue desert bird". Alieth had arrived too late, and when she had checked her status, she had already passed away. She was 115 years old and her katra had been lost forever, the experiences of a lifetime vanished in an instant. At homeworld, she had 3 children and 8 grandchildren. Cammy Jackstadt would have been 43 in 78 days. Warrant Officer in Engineering. She had suffered major damage to the back of her head and her last thoughts were very disjointed. For some reason, her injured mind repeated over and over again a memory of a summer in Idaho. It had been so intense that Alieth had almost felt the breeze caressing her skin and still had in her mouth the flavour of the fruit that Cammy had shared that day with her best friend. Porter Solari, a nurse, had died just minutes before Jackstadt. He was 23 years old and his maternal grandmother had been a Romulan. During shoreleave, Alieth had issued a recommendation for him to go to Starfleet Medical School. He could have been one of the finest doctors in the fleet due to his selflessness and compassion. He had died in the belief that everything that had happened was a nightmare and that he would soon wake up and be able to take the shuttle back to Earth. Alieth had been unable to comfort him, and he had died scared and confused. Alieth halted her steps and leaned, for the briefest of moments, on the sill of one of the windows. The strange blue light from the sub-space travel bathed her hollow-eyed face, rendering her visage strange and tired. Her fingers clasped the padd tightly. Much more than needed. But this way her hands didn't shake. That brief quiet moment evaporated with the hissing of the door, which heralded the entry of the two red-collared officers. Alieth pulled herself together as best she could, stretched out her wrinkled uniform by grabbing the hem of her jacket and stepped closer to them with strides more resolute than she really felt. Her left hand kept gripping the padd firmly, but otherwise she wore the hieratic Vulcan indifference façade. She couldn't afford to let her unemotional mask crack. Not at that moment. Alieth: (nodding sternly) Acting Captain Geoffrey John Teller, Lieutenant Commander García. Quen: Response Teller: Doctors - have you made any progress on the...::Geoff shrugged over towards the isolation lab::...mass? Quen: Response The Vulcan kept silent and listened to her colleague's explanations. The Bajoran woman had spent all her time on that case, while Alieth attended to those left behind after the evacuation, so she knew little to nothing about the.... mass. Garcia: Response Teller: I see. Ensign Wilkins, you were orchestrating the first Marine team that was attacked - what are your impressions of the device we're dealing with? Anything could be useful at this point. Wilkins: Response Quen: Response Once again, Alieth listened and said naught. Her eyes wandered from her feet to the stasis field and from there to the padd she was holding in her hands. She unlocked it one more time, moved the report of the fatalities to the background with a miniscule grimace and logged on to the medical database. For a short while, the only sound that came from the Vulcan-shaped shade was the faint tap-tap-tap of her fingers on the screen. Garcia: Response Teller: That's helpful, thank you. I've got Lt. Cmdr. Brodie working with Lt. Lovar on a way to disentangle the mine from our innards, and our Security and Marine personnel are attempting to reinforce the QSD core, which appears to be this devices ultimate objective. Our goal is to neutralize, hinder, harass or otherwise annoy the biological components of this device enough so we can excise it from the hull without being attacked again. This is an open forum - no idea too crazy, so speak freely. By my count, we've got just over five and half hours left - so lets get into it. Wilkins: Response Alieth: The closest thing I find in the computer memory is an encounter with Quasi-energy microbes in 2369. These are life forms that exist simultaneously as matter and energy, sir. Quen: Response Garcia: Response Wilkins: Response Teller: Response Alieth: (with exhausted voice) It is possible, sir, but it seems much more complex to the eye. Quen: Response Garcia: Response Wilkins: Response Teller: Response Tag & TBC ================================= Lt. JG Alieth Medical Officer USS Thor NCC-82607 Fleet Captain A. Kells, Commanding Author ID number: E239702A10 =================================

I think this situation highlights where our format can produce some incredible and dramatic storytelling - @Wes Greaves invoked these very accessible and believable newlywed officers in his first sim (The Cost, below) and I was immediately struck by the personal nature of the storytelling within the context of a larger disaster aboard ship. I spoke to him over Discord and, with his blessing, built upon his start. Lets hope things work out for these two

Congratulations to all the exceptional people from around the fleet who show us, through actions and attitude, how to be the best there is. To my fellow vikings, @Wes Greaves, @Addison MacKenzie & @Ben Garcia I offer the heartiest congratulations - in the short time we've been a crew I have gotten to see greatness from all of you. I cannot wait to see what the year ahead brings for all of us!

My sincerest congratulations to each and every one of you. The amount of work you do, born of your generosity and desire to build something wonderful, is truly staggering. As a fleet, we're tremendously lucky to have you. As individuals, it's a pleasure and an honor getting to write with you. Yours is the example we're proud to follow. Thank you all!

I am humbled and staggered to be honored in such a way, and count myself lucky once again to have found such an incredible community. To everyone who is taking a ribbon home, you have my sincerest congratulations. Your contributions to the fleet are enormous and I can only hope to keep up with the incredible example you've set. To me, an award like this is a reminder of how vital and vibrant our community is, and the awesome opportunity I've been given to help people from all over the world tell their stories. It is, truly, an honor. Thank you all for continuing to be the most wonderful community I've ever found on 'net.

I'm flattered - I'd absolutely love to write with you as well - we might need to have the Thor stop by Ops for some shoreleave in the near future!

Absolutely fantastic to see such an incredible group of award winners this year! Congratulations to everyone, you’ve brought yourself and your ships great honor!