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Piweh

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Everything posted by Piweh

  1. Ra didn't show up at the beach party, tbf.
  2. I am giving this the love reaction because I found it impossible to choose between the cry and laugh reactions.
  3. Ensign Piweh checking in. "Do not call me Frog! I may be be small, but my ambition is as big as the world!"
  4. Welcome back to the Zenno show. Today, we're offering a twofer. and:
  5. ((OOC: Everyone loves Artinus' pet miniature Targ, oocly if not icly, but he's never seen a crew mate with quite an adorkable reaction to meeting her as this. You are in for some laughs, and even more feels.) ((Main Sickbay, Acting CMO's office, USS Arrow)) It had been an...interesting day to say the least. Upon returning to Sickbay to tell Seesh the news, instead of being greeted by her hulkling lizard friend, the office was empty. And a note flashing on the terminal told her why. Something had come up that required Dr. Seesh to have to step away. R'Ariel had left, and now, it seemed so had Seesh. In a panic, Talia gave her uniform shirt a healthy sniff. It smelled like uniform. And a faint scent of lilies from her soap. It was unlikely it was her, but she still needed to make sure. Sitting down in the now larger, colder feeling office, she stared at the second message on the terminal: To: Lt. Jg. Hobart, Lt. Jg. Ohnari, Cdt. Perim CC: Shayne, Randal, CPT From: Niac, Karrod, CMDR Subject: Need to borrow your body for a few hours Please meet in the bridge conference room tomorrow at 1400 hours if interested. Snacks will be provided. //End Message Snacks will be provided. She kept reading that line over and over. Snacks. For the use of hers, Nolen, and Cadet Perim's bodies....and she thought being a department head came with perks. Apparently it came with snacks and the use of her physical person for....some...reason? Somehow, she'd missed the message until now, the day of, and in an hour. Scrubbing her hands over her face she let out a slightly muffled groan. Her first official act as acting Chief Medical Officer was to get some snacks and offer her meat prison for unknown experimentation. As far as first days go, it could be worse. ((Corridors)) It seemed her second, and forty seventh official act as acting CMO was to approve a ridiculous amount of paperwork, mostly from herself.... oO Now how does that work for ethics...? Oo Lost in the bureaucratic red tape, she nearly careened into the chief of security. Ohnari: Oh! I am so sorry Commander I wasn't paying attention, Good morning! Having apologized for the near collision, a chorus of contented grunting came from the floor. Serinus: Good morning to you as well, doctor. Every worry and thought that had been swirling around her dissipated. Ohnari: W-ha, I mean, who is this...? Serinus: This is Tlhiroghni', whom you may have heard of in passing. Talia's eyes widened as the trotting targ gave her a few cautionary sniffs. Hopefully she wasn't offended by lily scented soap.... Ohnari: ::timidly:: May I pet her...? That is, if she wouldn't mind... Artinus: ::giving a slow nod:: Oh, everyone always wants to pet her, yes. You are welcome to try, she's been pretty good with new people as far as targs go. And with the affirmative, Talia unceremoniously melted to the floor, both hands outstretched giving the little creature a welcoming gesture. She let out a squeal of delight when the little curly tail began thumping about and her knees were suddenly covered in mini targ snorts. Ohnari: ::high pitched and sing-songy:: Oh you are such a good girl look at you! Who's a good little targ?! Talia snatched up the little hoofed hoglet and was nearly in tears. Her morning had been filled with highs and lows, and now, she was on the floor, getting Targ spit all over her face. She couldn't be happier at that very moment. Artinus: Response? She was completely oblivious to what he had said, and anything else beyond the little coarse-haired creature. Ohnari: I love you, yes I do, you are the most perfect little targlet in the whole world aren't you Tlhiroghni'?? Auntie Tali will get you a little sweater and some booties and maybe a little sun hat.... Artinus: Response? Still clutching this squirmy, squealy Targ, Talia glanced up and smiled sheepishly. For a moment, she had completely forgot that the Commander was there...and now looking down on her....acosting his pet with exuberant affection. Carefully, she set the targ back down and stood, clearing her throat a touch awkwardly. oO No way this man ever respects me again...Oo Ohnari: I mean....if your dad doesn't mind...and all that...heh... Artinus: Response? --------------------------------------------- Lieutenant JG Talia Ohnari, MD USS Arrow C239205ME0
  6. If it looks like a duct, and quacks like a duct.
  7. I feel like he missed an important lesson in the 20th Century Metal music elective.
  8. Oh, come one, nothing ever goes absolutely sideways for the Arrow crew
  9. Thanks to all of the staff for what you do. I'm particularly delighted to see my former, and current Captains, as well as my current XO, Congrats to all of the winners, and to all of the staff for keeping this community running +29 years and going strong!
  10. Seconded, Hobart wasn't even here for Trevor, either!
  11. White is so hot this year, and so is the Security Chief of the USS Arrow, Artinus Serinus in this all white getup by Johahn von Debeers of Haus von Debeers, Amsterdam.
  12. Author’s note: The following tale involves depictions of violence and themes of enslavement, cruel and unusual punishment including solitary confinement, forced paralyzation, and forced feeding. As well as the emotional, and mental distress rendered on the victims of such. Reader’s discretion is advised. “The time is now 1630,” the station’s computer told the Brikarian man who sat in the custom chair of his quarters still studying for his first day officially back in Starfleet, already dressed in a freshly replicated black and gold uniform with a new hollow pip on his collar. His recommision had come with a promotion for his constant resistance and his part in their liberation by the current Arrow crew. Lieutenant Commander S’dor Grumm had a heavy burden on him that even his massive stony shoulders could not bear. Everything he had lived through, and relived, again, and again, and again. The mutiny he didn’t stop (not that he didn’t try [not that he couldn’t have tried harder]), the boarding, their capture by Sheliak, and the mining camp that they had been taken to for forced labor and everything that happened there. The towering Brik’ar, even by his own race’s standards, had grown accustomed to Deep Space Thirty Three in the last couple of months, where the biggest external inconvenience he had to deal with was doorways. He loved the tall and wide walkways of the promenade the most, they gave him the socialization and freedom of movement that his captors had denied him for so long. It pleased the behemoth of a rock man to know that he would pass through it on his way to the Engineering Department. Grumm would be second in Command of the department until the departure of the current department chief in a couple of months. He had wanted to get back in as soon as he was able to, but the eccentric, utterly annoying, yet helpful, Ferengi shrink, Doctor Gott; had advised him to take his time. Following Gott’s advice he had taken time to explore the station and make contacts and friends. To decompress, reflect, and adapt to and try to fully appreciate his change of fortune. Only after he had done so had they agreed that he was ready. It hadn’t been easy, solitary confinement was considered by many galactic powers and their treaties to be a form of torture in itself. The form he had been subjected to could be considered especially egregious. His own actions hadn’t earned it per say, but had certainly necessitated it in the eyes of the slave masters. Grumm was no man’s slave, and it had taken some time before his captors had figured out a way to remotely disable his gravity harness. From the labyrinthine tunnels, with his childhood pet “Yip” by his side, he had waged a one man guerilla war against the masters, the blessing of his race, to be immune to energy weapons, used in great effect to make many former Sheliak into lifeless puddles of goo most often by his massive fists. But then they finally tamed him, in body, if not spirit. With his body now fully at the mercy of the artificial gravity they had installed, the Sheliak took the proud man and put him a special holding cell in the headquarters building. He was happy to be on a station, and he would have absolutely turned down a ship assignment after everything he had been through. Still, the Sheliak lurked not far away, as Thirty Three was the gateway to the Alpha Isles, The Federation’s diplomatic outpost in the particular frontier. Their captors had been considered “Rogue elements,” by at least one faction that considered itself the legitimate successor to the “Corporate”. Grumm however wasn’t too sure he trusted that narrative, but there hadn’t been much time to investigate during the escape. What little Arriana and himself had learned was disturbing. The Sheliak had some rather in-depth intelligence on each of them, as if they had a spy on the ship, or recording devices, something. More disturbing yet, were the hideous trophies they had kept alongside their filing cabinets. He’d never forget the holograms of dead officers displayed next to the uniforms they were wearing when they had died. Dumped on his belly, and unable to move, the Sheliak had fed him through a throat tube, why they had done so had been beyond his comprehension. Had his life been worth more inherently to them because he was also silicon based? Did they think that he was at least worth more of a ransom? He’d only learn later from Arianna Sokova that they had heavily drugged him a few times and tried to make him work in that state. Yet, even in such a debilitated state he had resisted, and their slave drivers had finally stripped him of his harness completely. Sokova had reckoned that it had been at least two years since they had last tried that, by the time they escaped. Why they had continued to let him live afterward, he never did puzzle out. Saying goodbye to Yip, (whom he had named at a very young age) with many longs pets, as if trying to make up for lost time and affection; the Brikar rose to his feet and started out into the corridors. Ducking, per usual, beneath the door he exited his quarters and began his lumbering trek to his new duty station. His mind intrusively reminded him still. He lied there sedentary, in darkness save the illumination of small crack under his door. When he had first been detained this way, he nourished himself with plans of escape and dreams of life away from the small cell. Unable to move, to will himself to move, he had never been able to see these through. Days, months, perhaps years passed, all meaningless to a man who heard nothing except the voices of his guards; who saw no one but whichever guard would occasionally be tasked in changing his nutrient bag. Passing through the promenade with its freedom, open air, and swarms of life and beauty, he gazed longingly at the domed arboretum in the middle, which he did not have time to visit until after his shift. The bright foliage of the trees, the fragrances of a dozen world’s flowers, offered such a contrast to all the things that had brought him such sorrow. As the flame of hope in his holding cell died, Grumm’s thoughts boiled with igneous rage. Seeing as he couldn’t well get his freedom; he would fantasize about his revenge. His thoughts grew exceedingly dark; twisted and warped scenarios played out in his mind. It was cathartic. It was exhausting. It could never last. The line for coffee was surprisingly short, and fortunately so, seeing as Grumm needed a little pick-me-up after the assault of memories. He’d want to be on top of it, after so long, with so many new technologies he had had to learn. Unable to sustain the darkness forever, S’dor retreated into his own mind. He relived his core memories. When his parents gifted him Yip on his birthday, childhood friends, an awkward adolescent dance with his first love, mandatory military service, his stint at Damous Technical School on Tellar Prime studying electrical engineering, his civilian ship repair job near his home, the one near his alma mater, the Academy, the ships leading up to the Arrow, everything that followed: the mutiny, their capture, his rebellion. He relived it all, repeatedly, no other form of escapism available to him, experiencing more lifetimes than most; though he was still young by Brikar standards. The coffee spurred him on, much in the way that finding that he no longer felt the full pull of gravity had. He remembered how his disused muscles, atrophied, yet still strong, were once again at his command, and pushing himself up to kneel, and then stand. Something had stirred their guards, and someone else had been deposited in the cell next door. Unbeknownst to him, and perhaps at the time herself, Adrianna Sokova has somehow managed to reengage the field that his anti-grav harness gave off enough to give him freedom of movement. How exactly it did so between a thick wall, was anyone’s guess, as a trained engineer he theorized that it had to do with the properties of the building materials. Nevertheless, struggling with his own weight and weakened legs, he had freed himself and ambushed those interrogating his fellow officer making quick and gooey blobs out of them all. Like donning his anti-grav harness again, the caffeine spurred the once and future assistant section chief on toward a new life. He took long strides toward the turbolift that would deliver him to his new post. The remaining length between Grumm and the lift was about as the length from Sokova’s cell to the intersection across from it had been. It had been from that intersection that the patrol had streamed out and tried to ambush them. Arianna seemed to wield her acquired Sheliak disruptor like she had lost no time at all, S’dor might have got a lucky shot in himself. As they approached said intersection, post firefight, they had had their argument. The Security Officer would have liked to escape right away, but he successfully guilted her into joining him in attempting to free the others. He stepped into the turbolift and he mulled over the events that followed, as he was whisked away toward his duty post. It was shortly after that when they found the achieves with the unsettling files, and more unsettling trophies. Trapped from further ingress by a force field, the Engineer smashed a holoemitter and quickly assembled a device to short out the field. After that traumatic encounter, it was harder to recall. There was another corridor, doors, more dead Sheliak, Ferengis, a few control rooms, and the modern crew of the Arrow. Lieutenant Commander S’dor Grumm stood outside the final barrier, both literal and figurative. Ducking his form low, he stepped forward into the next frontier.
  13. We certainly aren't without sin on this one
  14. See, now I want to see more ic arguments read by voice actors, in the style of wrestling promos.
  15. ((OOC: Here @Quentin Collins III masterfully ties together other people's posts, while adding his own unique flavor into the tasty simming gumbo. This is peak collaborative storytelling/Rping. Cheers.)) ((U.S.S. Arrow, Deck 6. The Starboard Bow.)) Serinus: Thank you everyone who's shown up so early, due to space constraints, we are moving the ceremony inside. So, please come on in. Quentin Collins shuffled carefully back into the compartment with the rest of the crew. He had seen the design elements and even the whole space in its rawest form, but seeing it complete...it was nearly awe-inspiring. An instantly charming and comfortable area just for them and them alone. Once again, his mind and heart ticked warmly back to The Eagle's Nest. How it too carried with it immense details and easy accessibility to the crew it supported.Glasses were being distributed across the still swelling crowd. It was slightly overwhelming for a bit, just with the amount of people in the room. But there was nowhere else Quentin would have rather been. Unless...his eyes drifted momentarily to the viewports, housing the gleaming and enticing silver frame of DS33. He allowed himself a tight smile and a chaste sip of the glass the striking Vulcan man had handed out. oO Soon, my dear. Very soon...Oo He refocused himself on the Magna Roman of the hour, who had started to take "center stage" as it were. Serinus: Friends, Colleagues, Shipmates. When this journey began, early last year, it was merely a flight of fancy, a dream that the Arrow could have a gathering place for this fine crew to relax and congregate together in the fine tradition of Starfleet crew lounges. I mentioned the idea to my old friend Commander Quentin Collins, and he, in his typical fashion, was both wholeheartedly supportive, and curious to explore this new idea. Quentin blushed slightly at the mention. Sure, he had had his bits, but this was very much Serinus and Connor's baby. He was, as per usual, just happy to be here. The Chief continued amicably. Serinus: Ruminating on the idea over a few months, I finally determined to fully set out on the path that led us to this corridor tonight. We met, and were joined by Lieutenant Dewitt shortly after. Roping him into our plans, we three began to plan in earnest. On the day that we went to finalize the design on Deep Space 224’s holodeck 3, the fourth piece to our impromptu planning committee fell into place, the Ops Chief of the Excalibur, that would become our current first officer, Commander Niac. Once the plans had been crafted fully, the time and labor of many additional volunteers helped to turn an empty storage space into this haven for the weary and bored Arrowheads amongst us. Many unexpected delays have plagued this project since then, but like we always do, we have overcome them. And thus, we stand here today to officially christen The Starboard Bow, and bring it online to offer every Arrowhead, and their guests, a cozy place to congregate and socialize. Before we hear from all of the other planners, I would like to introduce you to the staff who will be serving you this evening, and hopefully for a long time to come, please give them a warm Arrow welcome. First off, Melissa Dane, your lead bartender for tonight. The Chief motioned carefully toward a...frankly drop dead gorgeous Centaurian woman, clad in a smart green smock atop dress serving blacks, that seemed to serve as The Bow's "uniform". The tightly contained and maintained beehive on her head gave the whole look a ravishingly Mod look that Quentin almost had to look away from in the moment. It was...too much! But also, very like The Chief. Polite, but warm applause concerted her smile. Ash leaned closer into The Captain. Quentin might not have heard it if he was a bit further away. MacKenna: ::whispering:: Bartenders? Quentin leaned into his raven-haired and smartly dressed friend. Collins: Keeps us from possibly over-serving ourselves. Bow: RESPONSE Serinus: And this ::he motioned to the Vulcan man, still lithely "patrolling" the crowd in the same uniform as Dane:: is Samot. He and Melissa will alternate every 3 evenings for regular shifts, and work together for special occasions such as this. Quentin raised his still mostly full glass. Collins: Well met. ::he...couldn't keep eye contact with Dane for long...a fact that seemed to delight her to no end, and blossom Quentin's cheeks Red Alert crimson.:: Bow: RESPONSE More warm, slightly reserved applause greeted the assembly. Serinus: I have yet to hire a bouncer, and ::he tried to deliver this in an uncharacteristically humorous manner:: I’d appreciate it if you didn’t make me. Collins: HA! Quentin clamped his mouth shut, realizing the eyes that were on him. Collins: Sorry. Just...no promises, Chief. ::he said with a theatrical and knowing wink.:: Bow: RESPONSE The Chief took another polite beat and continued. Serinus: With that out of the way, I’d like to call up our next speaker, my first collaborator on this project, Lieutenant Commander Quentin Collins, to say a few words. Quentin carefully sat his glass on the immaculate bar, adjusted his suit coat sleeves, and slowly crossed up and into the space that The Chief had once occupied. He had been...crazy nervous about this. He had made copious amounts of notes (now all in a tall, listing pile in his quarters). He had tried recording something to rehearse, which all were promptly deleted and further expunged from the ship's computer entirely. And he had even taken to his Office archives, looking desperately for some sort of inspiration or bedrock to start from. Both Sara and David would have keelhauled him knowing that he had tried the truly tired "Various galactic dictionaries define the word "friend" as...". But in the end, Quentin did what he always did. He took stock of the people around him and his ever-deepening love and respect for them all...drank deep the ambrosian warmth of the room. A warmth that he once thought completely alien and inaccessible to someone like him. Someone with his cursed name... But then he spoke from the heart. Collins: I, uh...First off, I wanna thank The Chief and Connor and all of you for...well, everything, to be totally honest. The entire idea of this place was built with all of you in mind and I can only hope you get as much out of it as we put into it. He took a beat. Casting an eye around them all and slipping his hands into his suit trouser pockets. Collins: I grew up in a place where the polite thing, the CORRECT thing to do was keep to yourself. Keep to your own and cast a suspicious eye to the outsider. My own family wasn't even immune to it. Part of my drive toward Starfleet, toward all of you, was I knew, I just KNEW life had more to offer than that. There was more to see, more to do beyond what I was told to accept as "normal". A wide smile found his lips. Collins: And time after time, ships like this, people like you, and rooms just like this one have proven me right. I realize now, I was simply existing back on Earth. Sure, I was breathing and eating and talking. Usually too much as I am sure you all can attest to now. But it wasn't until I got RIGHT HERE. ::he points to the deck plating::...it wasn't until I knew all of you...that's when I really started living. I want to thank you all, sincerely thank you all, for having me. For being here, sharing this journey and being the officers you are. He took another beat. Collins: For...giving me a life beyond just living. Thank you. He took a step back. Suddenly...overwhelmed with feeling (and appreciative he didn't try to overwrite it). Bow: RESPONSE Serinus: And now, please help me welcome Lieutenant Junior Grade Connor Dewitt to share his thoughts. Connor stepped up. Dewitt: As a child, I began to tinker with my mom's home appliances very early. I always enjoyed creating and making something a better version of itself. Although, I have to admit that they did not always become better ::short pause:: This room was a standard issue Starfleet closet when we first saw it. Thanks to Commander Serinus' imagination and passion, it has become a gathering place for my new family. ::smile:: Con looked toward The Chief. Quentin's heart felt very full in the moment, but he kept silent with respect. Dewitt: Thank you, Commander, for seeing this through. And for allowing me to be part of it. ::raising his glass: To many nights we will spend here, remembering all the good and the bad times and figuring out what the next kitchen appliance will be that we make better. As Connor raised his glass toward The Chief, Quentin gave the Engineer warm and genuine applause. He was a Gold Shirt after his own heart. Quentin too was always looking for the better, weirder thing. It was only too right that one of the main minds behind The Bow was on the same path and searching journey. All of them would stand to benefit from it. The Bow itself was proof enough. More speakers were on deck, Quentin allowed them the space and reverent silence to hear their thoughts. Niac/Shayne/BOW: RESPONSE But as the assembly started to break, The Chief had other thoughts. And Quentin did as well. Miss Dane shuffled slightly behind the bar, likely producing a few of the props Quentin hoped were still on deck. oO Gods, I hope so. If that gold ended up somewhere else, I swear, I'll fong Cosmini within an inch of his insectoid-life...Oo Serinus: ::turning to Shayne:: Please remain here, sir. ::turning to the crowd:: I’d like to call the rest of our speakers back up please. But please join me in one last round of applause for our Captain. Collins: Hear, hear! Niac: RESPONSE Shayne: RESPONSE Bow: RESPONSE A comically large set of shears and a tightly wrapped flat parcel were placed on the bar and Quentin felt a sweet relief. But kept his silence for a bit. He wasn't sure entirely if Artinus knew he had done this, but if not, he wished to preserve the surprise for the moment. He moved closer to the bar and Dane quietly slid the parcel into his hands with a wink. Quentin was growing increasingly fond of her and her tightly controlled, nearly impossible hairdo. She moved off again, pressing a button on a PADD and "Pomp and Circumstance" started to pipe through The Bow's sound system. Quentin couldn't help but smile. Did The Chief have this streak of theatricality in him the whole time? He desperately hoped so. Herding them slightly once more, ribbons were cut, holo-pics were taken, and smiles were all around. Quentin couldn't wait to tell Sara and David about this. Would they probably think it was corny? Absolutely. But he didn't care. It was theirs and they had made it happen. That was enough for him. Once more the assembly started to break, but this time Quentin stopped them, finally producing the parcel from the bar and into his hands. Collins: If you'll all indulge me a bit further, I took the liberty... Carefully, Quentin divested the plate of pressed gold and silver from its silken housing. Made from the same foundry and provided gold as the plate in the Living History Annex was nearly its twin. Quentin tried to hold it out for all to see. The Starboard Bow USS Arrow NCC-69829 Dedicated On 240003.04 Design Team: A. Serinus, Q. Collins, C. Dewitt, K. Niac First Officer: Karrod Niac - Commanding Officer: Randal Shayne Collins: Master Cosmini sends his regards... The Chief was usually slightly implacable. That was one of the reasons he was so good at his job. But Quentin Collins would remember forever the open and clear emotion on his face seeing the plaque. It was absolutely worth its weight in the gold he had spent. And he would have done it again and again, just to see that look once more. Serinus: Thank you. We will find a good spot to hang this. He turned his massive frame back to the assembly. Serinus: The Starboard Bow is officially open for business. All serving shall be moved to the bar, so please make yourselves at home. This place is for you! More drinks were distributed by the cool-eyed Vulcan. Quentin felt as if he was floating. And he knew it wasn't the drinks. At least, not yet. Serinus: Please stay tuned for at 1900, Commander Collins will lead us in a Terran style Formal Champagne Toast! Quentin tapped the center of his glass. Collins: Just remind me after about two more of these! Unless you may have to settle for a rude sailor's limerick. -- TAG/TBC -- Lieutenant Commander Quentin Collins III Chief Science Officer -- U.S.S. ARROW NCC-69829 ID: E239512QC0 -- F.N.S. CONTRIBUTOR (SB118 Forums) ARROW MISSION ARCHIVIST
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