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Jona "Bootleg" ch'Ranni - Chicken Little and the Fear of Abandonment

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I usually do a roundup of Skarbek good stuff at the end, and post it up here. While that's in progress for our most recent Skarbek adventure (Skarbek III: What Do Boys Dream), the narrative description in this sim really hit home with a golden emotional moment for me. Well done, @Jona ch'Ranni! Keep it up, man!



((Sip' Otra Territory, Cardassian Prison))

The unstable ceiling had fallen on their heads creating a shower of stones and mortar. After regaining consciousness and taking stock of their situation, Jona swiveled around in confusion.

ch'Ranni: ::looking around:: Wait, where's Eve ... Eveanae?

Pira pulled herself up, shaking her head as she did so, and causing a small cloud of dust to float out of her hair.
Fortune: Can't hear her. Maybe she fled before it fell?
sh'Qynallahr: No, she was still with us.
Tahna: She was right there....
Fortune: Well that's not good...
sh’Qynallahr: No, it's not.
ch'Ranni: Quickly, pull up some of these rocks and see if you can spot her!
Tahna: She could still be alive!
Pira had a practical mind and pointed out the down side of conducting a search.
sh'Qynallahr: We don’t have time to look for her, we need to get those actuators to the others.
ch'Ranni: No, do it.
Greenhorn seemed determined to find the missing Romulan. She dove into the pile, shoving aside some of the smaller pieces.
Tahna: Here, help me with this one. 
Fortune: Okay, take hold, and...one two three!
Piravao watched, antennae flicked back in annoyance as the two women hauled the larger slab off the pile.
sh'Qynallahr: Put that down, we don’t have time too...
Jona held up a hand to silence the Andorian woman as the slab moved away and revealed a dusty black boot still half buried by the rest of the rubble. 
Fortune: Okay, she might be knocked out so let's be careful.
sh’Qynallahr: Or she may be injured, moving her will be risky.
Tahna: Response
Wigs and Greenhorn bent to their task and threw the smaller rubble out of the way, down the hall.

Fortune:  Eveanae, can you hear us?

Pira seemed to wam to the idea of recovering the woman. It was more difficult to brush aside a life when there was evidence of the person lying prone on the floor.

sh’Qynallahr: Slow down, that pile is unstable. We need to be careful about how we move it, unless we want it to shift and crush her, or us.

Fortune/Tahna: Response

sh’Qynallahr: We have to start from the top and work down. It will take longer, but we’ll be safer, and so will Eveanae.

Jona gave a terse nod to his fellow Andorian. At least they were all working together toward the same goal now.

ch'Ranni: Right. But we'll be quick about it.
Fortune/Tahna: Response

sh’Qynallahr: Bootleg, and I can move the larger pieces, we’re…
Jona had already finished the sentence in his head. It stood to reason that the dense musculature of Andorian would place him and Blades as the strongest of the group. Yet, there was little that could be done about the lights suddenly winking out. The corridor was bathed in complete darkness and they were forced to stop their rescue effort. 
sh’Qynallahr:...well, this is going to make it so much easier.  
Jona reached into his prison jumpsuit and withdrew a match from the small treasure collection he'd pocketed before they'd left the Skarbek-controlled cells. With a flick of his wrist, he struck it against the brick wall and it flared for a second before dying down to a steady flame. Treated as it was with the standard chemical compound, the match would burn for up to ten minutes.
ch'Ranni: Aren't you glad I'm here now?

Fortune/Tahna/sh'Qynallahr: Response

The moment of levity was strangled when Jona squinted in the dim light at the base of the rubble pile. An expanding pool of dark greenish blood was seeping out from underneath the rocks and threatened their shoes. There was too much of it. Far too much.
ch'Rann: ::voice low:: Pira's right. We don't have time. The distraction's been sprung and the power's been cut. That means we're up. Besides ... it looks like it's too late anyway. ::the flame flickered in his cold eyes:: Clear out.
Fortune/Tahna/sh'Qynallahr: Response
The four Skarbekians made their way down the prison hallway toward their destination quickly. The only light guiding their path was the single match held between a blue thumb and forefinger. Every lumen of light had receded from the rockpile and it sat an undisturbed burial mound - except for the labored breathing of a young Romulan and her quiet sobs of wracking pain beneath the weight of the stone.
((Five minutes later))
They made their way toward the rendezvous point through the treacherous Sip' Otra territory. It didn't take long before they came upon a stretch of corridor that was occupied - or at least pre-occupied.
ch'Ranni: Look there.
Various bodies lay strewn about on the floor - Cardassians, a Flaxian, even a Breen with a ripped refrigeration suit. A pungent odor hung in the air that smelled of ammonia mixed with other unidentified chemicals. It made his eyes burn and his antennae sweat and he recoiled in disgust.
ch'Ranni: Gah! Warn a guy next time, Greenhorn!
Tahna: Response
ch'Ranni: ::smirking in the dim light:: Ha ha, just kidding. It seems like these Sips might have been taken out. Maybe by our people.
Fortune/Tahna/sh'Qynallahr: Response
ch'Ranni: Most of them show signs of inhalation of toxins ::pointing to the one environmental-suited alien:: but I doubt this Breen stabbed himself or bashed himself in the head.
Fortune/Tahna/sh'Qynallahr: Response  
Jona "Bootleg" ch'Ranni

as simmed by
Lt. Commander Jona ch'Ranni
Chief of Operations
USS Gorkon (NCC-82293)


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