Captain
Join Date: Jan 2014
Posts: 1,690
# 1 The Oncoming Storm (RP)
05-28-2014, 06:17 PM
[OOC]Hey all! I saw this RP thread and thought, sure, why not? It’s been a while since I’ve actually RPd like this so what the hell…

Below you’ll find my introductory chapter of my character, an orphaned Romulan struggling with life on Earth and finally recruited by a young Drake for reasons unknown. Hopefully the format is acceptable and everyone who opts to join in will enjoy.

Obviously I will be handling certain primary characters but how your characters interact is entirely up to you. There are only a few rules:

1: All posts must adhere to the EULA for these forums.
2: I prefer [OOC] text to be prefaced with [OOC] and in GREEN and [IC] text in WHITE.
3: IC arguments, etc. are permitted as the story unfolds. OOC arguments are not.
4: feel free to PM me with any questions, comments or concerns.
5: Have fun!

Thanks all – I look forward to seeing how this develops.
[/OOC]



She lay in bed, arms folded beneath her head, staring at the ceiling of her room, her cheeks still wearing the bruises and dirt from her melee with The Boy. She would never call him by name, always ‘The Boy’.

“You have no home! You don’t belong here!” The Boy had said to her between classes. “You don’t even have any parents!”

It was true and she knew this. She was fully aware. As a Romulan she had no home world to call her own. Hers was obliterated by the destruction of their star. This had all happened before she was born; she had never actually took a single step on Romulus nor swallowed a single breath of ch'Rihan air. Her parents, her mother pregnant with her at the time, fled Romulus before the Hobus disaster. She was born in a dark corner of a Xindi trade vessel, completely ignorant of the past and, for better or for worse, completely oblivious to the future.

She could hear her adoptive parents talking from the other room, their voices strained and with only the fleeting remnants of patience as they discussed her fate. She was thirteen. By Human standards she was just coming into the ‘troubling phase’ of her life; hormones, angst, the blossom of independence… Romulans, however, age slower than their Human counterparts, making them smaller and less physically developed in all areas but one: her physical strength. Like Vulcans who opt to live on Earth, Romulans are genetically built for a harsher atmosphere and higher base gravity. Their bones and muscle makeup is far more dense and, as a result, they possess greater physical strength. The Boy knew this too, but for some stupid reason he decided to press his luck. In truth, he had been tormenting her for months now, singling her out and focusing his spiteful, hateful comments at her, whether it be the fact her ears were pointed or her blood was green.

“Words can never hurt you,” Elizabeth, her adoptive mother, had once said. “unless you allow them to. They have no power over you but what you give them. Always remember that.”
She reminded herself of this every day as The Boy continued to sling insults at her. She also reminded herself of Marcus, her adoptive father, told her, “You have to be strong. Never fight back. Stand tall and stand proud but never lay a hand on another. Resist, disagree, and refuse to cooperate, but never act out in violence.” These words were much harder to follow. Especially today.

The Boy had gone too far. It was as simple as that. He opened with his usual barrage of insults, goaded further by his chortling companions. “Green blooded orphan! You’re parents are dead! You have no home world!” She ignored most of this, as she has done since the beginning, but the line had been drawn with the following…

“You should have died along with your real parents!”

She stopped and looked at The Boy, her blood boiling. She didn’t know why, exactly, this statement caused such a reaction when all the others had not. She was trapped; her legs would not obey her, her eyes would not tear away from his. Her hands balled into tight, little fists.

This was what The Boy wanted, what he had been fishing for all these months; a reaction. He had finally struck a raw nerve and locked on. A sinister smile spread along his face as he took a step forward, his eyes burning into hers. “Your entire race should have been killed. Wiped off the face of the galaxy for good! When I’m a Starfleet Captain, I’ll make sure to ‘accidentally’ blow up any Romulan ships that I come across. Hopefully you’ll be on one when I do!”

‘Move! Turn away now!’ She thought to herself, ‘He’s just an idiot. Just walk away…’

The Boy moved closer. Her body disobeyed her. She couldn’t walk away. ‘Just a little closer…’ A strange voice in the back of her head whispered.

What happened next happened too fast for her to realize until The Boy lay on the ground before her, broken and bleeding, his friends looking at her in stunned fear. She looked at The Boy, her hands still clenched in fists, her breath coming in short rasps, blood on her fists. Red blood. His blood.

He had reached for her. Or did she reach for him? She couldn’t remember, it was all a blur. She remembered swinging her fist connecting with his jaw, satisfied with the sound and feel of the bones shattering. Satisfied, but not sated. As he lay before her she pulled back and kicked, breaking at least four ribs and knocking the wind out of him. One of The Boy’s friends, a tall red-haired kid, moved to help his friend. One look at the fire in her eyes froze him in his tracks. They fled. They all ran, leaving The Boy broken and wounded on the ground at her feet.

‘Run!’ Was all that went through her mind and she did just that. She turned on her heels and bolted to the only haven she knew. Home.

It wasn’t much longer before a knock came to the door. Elizabeth answered and knew, exactly, what had happened at the sight of The Boy’s parents accompanied by the local law enforcement.

Alone, on her bed, she rolled on her side as the conversation in the other room reached a pitch that told her the inevitable was coming. She would be punished, and harshly so. She wondered what it will be like to survive on Rura Penthe. The answer came almost immediately: she wouldn’t. She stared out the window of her room and considered running. This thought almost brought a smile to her lips. To where would she run? How far away is ‘safe’? Her thoughts were shattered by a soft knock on the door, followed by Elizabeth. She didn’t appear to be in a murderous rage, outraged by the events with The Boy. In fact, she seemed perfectly calm, as if all of this was expected.

“Aiel, would you come out here, please?” was all she said before turning back to the other room. Suddenly, the fear and worry Aiel felt was greatly overshadowed by another feeling: sheer terror.

She made her way, timidly, into the room. Elizabeth took a seat next to Marcus who appeared equally calm and collected. This only made the terror all that much stronger. There was no sign of The Boy’s parents or the police. Just one man, his back to her, seated across from her adoptive parents.

“Come over here, Aiel,” Elizabeth patted the seat between she and Marcus. Aiel did as she was told and stared up at the strange man in her home. He was somewhere in his early thirties, the lightest touch of grey just beginning to appear at his temples. His eyes were intense but not threatening, and he gave a brief nod and the slightest of smiles to her as she sat down.

“Jolan tru,” The Man said softly to her. Truth be told, she had never heard this expression. It seemed familiar, somewhat natural, but all she could do was stare at the man in the only manner she could muster, that of a frightened thirteen year old girl. “My name is Franklin Drake. I’m with Starfleet. Don’t be afraid, Aiel. I am not here to punish you.”

Confused, she looked up to Elizabeth and Marcus, who offered her nothing but a comforting smile.



“No! Again!”

Aiel huffed to catch her breath as the holosuite reset itself. The Klingon warrior she’d been fighting dissolved as another one appeared it its place. She winced at the growing pain in her side. She knew the suite’s safety protocols wouldn’t allow her to suffer a fatal wound but they did nothing to alleviate the pain. She wiped her palms on her gi and put herself in the ready position, knife held in a defensive posture.

She was seventeen now. Physically a woman. Her strength and speed had increased with her age, as did her skill, putting her in the top five per cent of her class. She could down almost any human opponent. Klingons, on the other hand, were proving to be a much more difficult challenge.

She swallowed and controlled her breathing. “Begin.” She uttered. The Klingon’s eyes suddenly became aflame with life, anger and bloodthirst. He drew his bat’leth and screamed into an attack. Aiel dodged, knowing any attempt to parry the larger weapon would be pointless with a knife. Even if she did manage to block part of the blade, the Klingon would immediately counter with a sweep or a kick to knock her off balance. Manoeuvring around to flank the Klingon was nearly impossible; his eyes locked with hers, his movements mirroring hers exactly. A frontal attack was equally impossible.

The Klingon smiled at her, baring his crooked teeth in an imposing, predatory manner. “Are we going to dance all day, little Romulan bird, or are we going to fight?”

A hundred tactics went through Aiel’s mind, none of them seeming to give her the edge she needed. Then a thought fluttered across her mind, one as good as any and one she had yet to try. She took a deep breath, relaxed her pose, and dropped her weapon.

The Klingon paused, confused. “What game are you up to, little bird?”

“Attack me if you must, but know that there is no honor in killing an unarmed opponent.” That was it. She laid out her bluff. All that was left was to wait.

The Klingon regarded her warily, the tip of his bat’leth dropping slightly. “Then I shall gain no honor today.”

‘This is it! Passive resistance… lower his guard…’ she thought to herself.

The Klingon’s eyes narrowed, that same predatory smile coming to his lips. “But I shall take your life!”

Aiel winced as the Klingon leapt into an attack, the bat’leth piercing her chest and sending her to the floor. She cried out in agony, the pain all too real. Did they turn off the safety protocols after all?

“End program!” The voice rang out again. The holosuite dissolved to its neutral yellow grid on black. Aiel pushed herself up on to her elbows and rubbed her chest. No blood on her fingers, at least.

From the observation room she saw Lieutenant Mavis, a short, bespectacled woman in a Starfleet uniform making notes. A familiar masculine silhouette stood behind her. The woman leaned forward and spoke into the comm. “That will be all for now recruit. Pleas exit the holosuite and report to your team leader.”

Aiel stood and moved towards the arch leading back to the main hall. A feeling of immense frustration welled up inside her with every step. How could she have failed each and every time? She stopped, turned towards the observation booth. “Let me try again.”

“Your trial for today has ended. Please exit the holosuite and report to your team leader.”

Aiel prepared herself for a rebuttal, but it was cut short by Drake’s voice. “That will be all, Aiel.” Dissatisfied and angry with herself, she left the suite.

Salik, a young Vulcan male about the same age as Aiel waited stoically as she approached. He wears the same recruit uniform as her, simple black with an embroidered Starfleet emblem on the chest but unlike her he wore the gold laurel identifying him as the team leader. She came to a top before him and saluted.

“At ease,” He said emotionlessly, then began to review her test result son his padd. “You attempted the hand to hand trial four times and failed four out of four. In the final trial you dropped your weapon and exposed yourself to attack intentionally. Can you please explain the logic of this decision?”

“I was attempting to appeal to his sense of honor as a Klingon warrior.” She said.

“To what end?”

“To get him to lower his defence and expose himself to attack.”

Salik arched an eyebrow, “So your intention was to reward his honor with dishonor.”

“No,” she began, but knew that is exactly what she was attempting to do. She fell silent.

Salik made a note on his padd as he spoke. “The Klingon honor system is extremely complex, cadet. Further, it not always applies to non-Klingons. Your attempt to deceive the Klingon into exposing himself to an attack was not lost upon him and as such, he seized the opportunity for an easy kill. It would benefit you to take this into consideration next time. Dismissed.”

Had it been anyone other than a Vulcan she would have taken his demeanour as insulting. Instead, she offered a quick salute and about-face. The pain in her chest was still throbbing. Maybe a hot shower before mess would help soothe it somewhat.

In the observation booth Mavis turned to Drake. “Don’t you think you’re being too hard on her, sir? You’re setting her trials at least twice the severity as the others.”

Drake folded her arms behind his back, his expression blank. “Call in the next cadet for the trial. I’ll be in my office.”

Mavis watched as Drake left. She shook her head, then did as she was ordered.

You will forever be missed and never forgotten.

Last edited by prierin; 05-28-2014 at 06:38 PM.
Captain
Join Date: Apr 2014
Posts: 16,427
# 2
05-28-2014, 06:33 PM
Quote:
Originally Posted by prierin View Post
[OOC]Hey all! I saw this RP thread and thought, sure, why not? It’s been a while since I’ve actually RPd like this so what the hell…

Below you’ll find my introductory chapter of my character, an orphaned Romulan struggling with life on Earth and finally recruited by a young Drake for reasons unknown. Hopefully the format is acceptable and everyone who opts to join in will enjoy.

Obviously I will be handling certain primary characters but how your characters interact is entirely up to you. There are only a few rules:

1: All posts must adhere to the EULA for these forums.
2: I prefer [OOC] text to be prefaced with [OOC] and in GREEN and [IC] text in WHITE.
3: IC arguments, etc. are permitted as the story unfolds. OOC arguments are not.
4: feel free to PM me with any questions, comments or concerns.
5: Have fun!

Thanks all – I look forward to seeing how this develops.
[/OOC]



She lay in bed, arms folded beneath her head, staring at the ceiling of her room, her cheeks still wearing the bruises and dirt from her melee with The Boy. She would never call him by name, always ‘The Boy’.

“You have no home! You don’t belong here!” The Boy had said to her between classes. “You don’t even have any parents!”

It was true and she knew this. She was fully aware. As a Romulan she had no home world to call her own. Hers was obliterated by the destruction of their star. This had all happened before she was born; she had never actually took a single step on Romulus nor swallowed a single breath of ch'Rihan air. Her parents, her mother pregnant with her at the time, fled Romulus before the Hobus disaster. She was born in a dark corner of a Xindi trade vessel, completely ignorant of the past and, for better or for worse, completely oblivious to the future.

She could hear her adoptive parents talking from the other room, their voices strained and with only the fleeting remnants of patience as they discussed her fate. She was thirteen. By Human standards she was just coming into the ‘troubling phase’ of her life; hormones, angst, the blossom of independence… Romulans, however, age slower than their Human counterparts, making them smaller and less physically developed in all areas but one: her physical strength. Like Vulcans who opt to live on Earth, Romulans are genetically built for a harsher atmosphere and higher base gravity. Their bones and muscle makeup is far more dense and, as a result, they possess greater physical strength. The Boy knew this too, but for some stupid reason he decided to press his luck. In truth, he had been tormenting her for months now, singling her out and focusing his spiteful, hateful comments at her, whether it be the fact her ears were pointed or her blood was green.

“Words can never hurt you,” Elizabeth, her adoptive mother, had once said. “unless you allow them to. They have no power over you but what you give them. Always remember that.”
She reminded herself of this every day as The Boy continued to sling insults at her. She also reminded herself of Marcus, her adoptive father, told her, “You have to be strong. Never fight back. Stand tall and stand proud but never lay a hand on another. Resist, disagree, and refuse to cooperate, but never act out in violence.” These words were much harder to follow. Especially today.

The Boy had gone too far. It was as simple as that. He opened with his usual barrage of insults, goaded further by his chortling companions. “Green blooded orphan! You’re parents are dead! You have no home world!” She ignored most of this, as she has done since the beginning, but the line had been drawn with the following…

“You should have died along with your real parents!”

She stopped and looked at The Boy, her blood boiling. She didn’t know why, exactly, this statement caused such a reaction when all the others had not. She was trapped; her legs would not obey her, her eyes would not tear away from his. Her hands balled into tight, little fists.

This was what The Boy wanted, what he had been fishing for all these months; a reaction. He had finally struck a raw nerve and locked on. A sinister smile spread along his face as he took a step forward, his eyes burning into hers. “Your entire race should have been killed. Wiped off the face of the galaxy for good! When I’m a Starfleet Captain, I’ll make sure to ‘accidentally’ blow up any Romulan ships that I come across. Hopefully you’ll be on one when I do!”

‘Move! Turn away now!’ She thought to herself, ‘He’s just an idiot. Just walk away…’

The Boy moved closer. Her body disobeyed her. She couldn’t walk away. ‘Just a little closer…’ A strange voice in the back of her head whispered.

What happened next happened too fast for her to realize until The Boy lay on the ground before her, broken and bleeding, his friends looking at her in stunned fear. She looked at The Boy, her hands still clenched in fists, her breath coming in short rasps, blood on her fists. Red blood. His blood.

He had reached for her. Or did she reach for him? She couldn’t remember, it was all a blur. She remembered swinging her fist connecting with his jaw, satisfied with the sound and feel of the bones shattering. Satisfied, but not sated. As he lay before her she pulled back and kicked, breaking at least four ribs and knocking the wind out of him. One of The Boy’s friends, a tall red-haired kid, moved to help his friend. One look at the fire in her eyes froze him in his tracks. They fled. They all ran, leaving The Boy broken and wounded on the ground at her feet.

‘Run!’ Was all that went through her mind and she did just that. She turned on her heels and bolted to the only haven she knew. Home.

It wasn’t much longer before a knock came to the door. Elizabeth answered and knew, exactly, what had happened at the sight of The Boy’s parents accompanied by the local law enforcement.

Alone, on her bed, she rolled on her side as the conversation in the other room reached a pitch that told her the inevitable was coming. She would be punished, and harshly so. She wondered what it will be like to survive on Rura Penthe. The answer came almost immediately: she wouldn’t. She stared out the window of her room and considered running. This thought almost brought a smile to her lips. To where would she run? How far away is ‘safe’? Her thoughts were shattered by a soft knock on the door, followed by Elizabeth. She didn’t appear to be in a murderous rage, outraged by the events with The Boy. In fact, she seemed perfectly calm, as if all of this was expected.

“Aiel, would you come out here, please?” was all she said before turning back to the other room. Suddenly, the fear and worry Aiel felt was greatly overshadowed by another feeling: sheer terror.

She made her way, timidly, into the room. Elizabeth took a seat next to Marcus who appeared equally calm and collected. This only made the terror all that much stronger. There was no sign of The Boy’s parents or the police. Just one man, his back to her, seated across from her adoptive parents.

“Come over here, Aiel,” Elizabeth patted the seat between she and Marcus. Aiel did as she was told and stared up at the strange man in her home. He was somewhere in his early thirties, the lightest touch of grey just beginning to appear at his temples. His eyes were intense but not threatening, and he gave a brief nod and the slightest of smiles to her as she sat down.

“Jolan tru,” The Man said softly to her. Truth be told, she had never heard this expression. It seemed familiar, somewhat natural, but all she could do was stare at the man in the only manner she could muster, that of a frightened thirteen year old girl. “My name is Franklin Drake. I’m with Starfleet. Don’t be afraid, Aiel. I am not here to punish you.”

Confused, she looked up to Elizabeth and Marcus, who offered her nothing but a comforting smile.



“No! Again!”

Aiel huffed to catch her breath as the holosuite reset itself. The Klingon warrior she’d been fighting dissolved as another one appeared it its place. She winced at the growing pain in her side. She knew the suite’s safety protocols wouldn’t allow her to suffer a fatal wound but they did nothing to alleviate the pain. She wiped her palms on her gi and put herself in the ready position, knife held in a defensive posture.

She was seventeen now. Physically a woman. Her strength and speed had increased with her age, as did her skill, putting her in the top five per cent of her class. She could down almost any human opponent. Klingons, on the other hand, were proving to be a much more difficult challenge.

She swallowed and controlled her breathing. “Begin.” She uttered. The Klingon’s eyes suddenly became aflame with life, anger and bloodthirst. He drew his bat’leth and screamed into an attack. Aiel dodged, knowing any attempt to parry the larger weapon would be pointless with a knife. Even if she did manage to block part of the blade, the Klingon would immediately counter with a sweep or a kick to knock her off balance. Manoeuvring around to flank the Klingon was nearly impossible; his eyes locked with hers, his movements mirroring hers exactly. A frontal attack was equally impossible.

The Klingon smiled at her, baring his crooked teeth in an imposing, predatory manner. “Are we going to dance all day, little Romulan bird, or are we going to fight?”

A hundred tactics went through Aiel’s mind, none of them seeming to give her the edge she needed. Then a thought fluttered across her mind, one as good as any and one she had yet to try. She took a deep breath, relaxed her pose, and dropped her weapon.

The Klingon paused, confused. “What game are you up to, little bird?”

“Attack me if you must, but know that there is no honor in killing an unarmed opponent.” That was it. She laid out her bluff. All that was left was to wait.

The Klingon regarded her warily, the tip of his bat’leth dropping slightly. “Then I shall gain no honor today.”

‘This is it! Passive resistance… lower his guard…’ she thought to herself.

The Klingon’s eyes narrowed, that same predatory smile coming to his lips. “But I shall take your life!”

Aiel winced as the Klingon leapt into an attack, the bat’leth piercing her chest and sending her to the floor. She cried out in agony, the pain all too real. Did they turn off the safety protocols after all?

“End program!” The voice rang out again. The holosuite dissolved to its neutral yellow grid on black. Aiel pushed herself up on to her elbows and rubbed her chest. No blood on her fingers, at least.

From the observation room she saw Lieutenant Mavis, a short, bespectacled woman in a Starfleet uniform making notes. A familiar masculine silhouette stood behind her. The woman leaned forward and spoke into the comm. “That will be all for now recruit. Pleas exit the holosuite and report to your team leader.”

Aiel stood and moved towards the arch leading back to the main hall. A feeling of immense frustration welled up inside her with every step. How could she have failed each and every time? She stopped, turned towards the observation booth. “Let me try again.”

“Your trial for today has ended. Please exit the holosuite and report to your team leader.”
Aiel prepared herself for a rebuttal, but it was cut short by Drake’s voice. “That will be all, Aiel.”

Salik, a young Vulcan male about the same age as Aiel waited stoically as she approached. He wears the same recruit uniform as her, simple black with an embroidered Starfleet emblem on the chest but unlike her he wore the gold laurel identifying him as the team leader. She came to a top before him and saluted.

“At ease,” He said emotionlessly, then began to review her test result son his padd. “You attempted the hand to hand trial four times and failed four out of four. In the final trial you dropped your weapon and exposed yourself to attack intentionally. Can you please explain the logic of this decision?”

“I was attempting to appeal to his sense of honor as a Klingon warrior.” She said.

“To what end?”

“To get him to lower his defence and expose himself to attack.”

Salik arched an eyebrow, “So your intention was to reward his honor with dishonor.”

“No,” she began, but knew that is exactly what she was attempting to do. She fell silent.

Salik made a note on his padd as he spoke. “The Klingon honor system is extremely complex, cadet. Further, it not always applies to non-Klingons. Your attempt to deceive the Klingon into exposing himself to an attack was not lost upon him and as such, he seized the opportunity for an easy kill. It would benefit you to take this into consideration next time. Dismissed.”

Had it been anyone other than a Vulcan she would have taken his demeanour as insulting. Instead, she offered a quick salute and about-face. The pain in her chest was still throbbing. Maybe a hot shower before mess would help soothe it somewhat.

In the observation booth Mavis turned to Drake. “Don’t you think you’re being too hard on her, sir? You’re setting her trials at least twice the severity as the others.”

Drake folded her arms behind his back, his expression blank. “Call in the next cadet for the trial. I’ll be in my office.”

Mavis watched as Drake left. She shook her head, then did as she was ordered.
OOC: If I may ask, can we create characters outside of your storyline, then bring them in later as a friend (or rival depending on the meeting) to yours?
Captain
Join Date: Jan 2014
Posts: 1,690
# 3
05-28-2014, 06:37 PM
Quote:
Originally Posted by kuntel View Post
OOC: If I may ask, can we create characters outside of your storyline, then bring them in later as a friend (or rival depending on the meeting) to yours?
[OOC] Please do! As long as they "fit" in whatever the current scene is (i.e. the academy sceen above...)[/OOC]

You will forever be missed and never forgotten.
Captain
Join Date: Apr 2014
Posts: 16,427
# 4
05-28-2014, 06:39 PM
Quote:
Originally Posted by prierin View Post
[OOC] Please do! As long as they "fit" in whatever the current scene is (i.e. the academy sceen above...)[/OOC]
OOC: Err, I was talking about not in the Academy thing. Like no interaction with her untill she's out in space. I personally was thinking of a poor, starving Romulan on some backwater planet out there that gets picked up by some pirates, and you can probably guess the rest of the backstory form there...
Captain
Join Date: Jan 2014
Posts: 1,690
# 5
05-28-2014, 06:45 PM
Quote:
Originally Posted by kuntel View Post
OOC: Err, I was talking about not in the Academy thing. Like no interaction with her untill she's out in space. I personally was thinking of a poor, starving Romulan on some backwater planet out there that gets picked up by some pirates, and you can probably guess the rest of the backstory form there...
[OOC] Heh – I understand and that’s perfectly fine. I don’t plan on keeping her in the academy forever so that would be fine. Any time you want to jump in feel free. All I ask is that we don’t leap ahead and have conflicting timelines/stories at the same time, if that makes sense. [/OOC]

You will forever be missed and never forgotten.
Captain
Join Date: Apr 2014
Posts: 16,427
# 6
05-28-2014, 06:50 PM
Quote:
Originally Posted by prierin View Post
[OOC] Heh – I understand and that’s perfectly fine. I don’t plan on keeping her in the academy forever so that would be fine. Any time you want to jump in feel free. All I ask is that we don’t leap ahead and have conflicting timelines/stories at the same time, if that makes sense. [/OOC]
OOC: Alright. So, can I do some backstory for him now, and some misadventures every no wand then, then bring him to the main line in at some point?
Captain
Join Date: Jan 2014
Posts: 1,690
# 7
05-28-2014, 06:58 PM
Quote:
Originally Posted by kuntel View Post
OOC: Alright. So, can I do some backstory for him now, and some misadventures every no wand then, then bring him to the main line in at some point?
[OOC]Absolutely.[/OOC]

You will forever be missed and never forgotten.
Captain
Join Date: Apr 2014
Posts: 16,427
# 8
05-28-2014, 07:51 PM
Quote:
Originally Posted by prierin View Post
[OOC]Absolutely.[/OOC]
OOC: Right, let's get to it! (I've figured out the colors!)

Stelam was starving. Not starving like when those privileged worts in the Federation got a little peckish. Starving as in he hadn't eaten anything but the dirt on the trail and scraps he could steal from idiots that wouldn't notice.
He had been left here by his parents when they couldn't afford to pay for him on the ship. They had been fleeing from the Hobus disaster, and the ship they were on had had a merchant in the guise of an officer for a captain, and each week the price had gotten higher to get to the destination.
Anyway, he was now on a no-name colony planet that didn't have enough resources to take care of themselves, let alone make an orphanage. So he was left wandering in the street, fifteen years old and starving, practically dead on the street. No hope, might as well die, but nope, his body wouldn't let him. So, he was having a pretty bad day already. Then the only thing that could make it worse happened. The damn idiot Klingon boy that was the son of the damn idiot Klingon governor that had also founded this damn place came by. He had taken to abusing Stelam by the second day he was here. Kicking him, punching him, even resulting to mind games, which he did rarely because he lost them, every time.


"What do you want, klivam?" said Stelam, reveling in insulting his enemy.

"To watch you die slowly, you green blooded peta'Q!" the Idiot said.

Stelam rolled his eyes, and said "Wait two more days. I'll die of starvation...

That's when the Idiot got angry. He commenced the beating with kicks and punches. But he didn't get what he wanted. For Stelam to scream, to whimper, to beg for mercy. All Stelam did was keep a stone face and grunt when something hurt. When the Idiot stopped, he looked down at Stelam

He screamed "Why don't you cry!? You coward Romulans always beg when you're beaten! Why won't you?!

Stelam looked at him with contempt. "Because I've had worse things happen to me..." he whispered.

The idiot was angry again. He about to kick again when his face grew surprised, and he looked down. There was a hole through his heart, and pick blood was spurting out. He then whimpered "Oh" and fell down. On top of Stelam.

Stelam: Elements damn! Get this carcass off me!

A stranger did just that, then held a hand down to him and picked him up. He was a human, around thirty or something like that. He smiled and Stelam got a good look around finally. The town was burning. Apparently, pirates had started looting. Stelam had a feeling he was just rescued by one.

The stranger finally spoke. "My name is Captain Hyulan, commander the privateer vessel the War Hawk." He bowed with his introduction. When he straightened, he looked Stelam in the eye. "And you are?" he asked.

Stelam looked him in the eye and said "I am Stelam Jhaelaa, orphan and pickpocket extraordinaire." Stelam bowed with his.

The Captain laughed. "I like you, boy. How would you like to be part of my crew?" he asked.

Stelam raised an eyebrow. "And get away from this pile of s***? I would be honored!" he exclaims.

The Captain laughs again, and puts his hand on Stelam's shoulder. They walk to a shuttle, or rather, the Captain walked and Stelam limped. They loaded on with others, and they welcomed Stelam to the crew. They smiled and sang all the way to the War Hawk


Five years later

Stelam was walking among the ashes of the latest pillaged world, looking for some more loot. In the years he had quickly become the second best fighter, after the Captain, and been elevated to Second mate. He'd done well. He looked around, his pistol in his hand, sword on his hip, and loot back over his shoulder. He walked into an abandoned house, and heard whimpering. He looks over at some malnourished kids, that would most likely die in hours.

He aims his gun "May you find peace in Volta Vor.." He says quietly, and shoots.

He takes everything he can find and returns to the ship. The Captain greets him with a smile

"Good haul?" the Captain asks.

"Yep. I'll be taking an early leave, Captain. Secure my items and take a nap. Is that all right?" he asks.

The Captain shrugs. "Sure kid. You've earned it." he answers.

Stelam returns to his quarters with his share, hides his loot, and passes out.
Captain
Join Date: Apr 2014
Posts: 16,427
# 9
05-29-2014, 08:29 PM
OOC: Uhm, hello?
Captain
Join Date: Apr 2014
Posts: 16,427
# 10
05-29-2014, 09:47 PM
Quote:
Originally Posted by kuntel View Post
OOC: Uhm, hello?
OOC: Guess I'll just post some more...

Stelam wakes to the the ship shaking, and an angry Klingon bursting through his door. He immediately takes out the knife that he kept under his pillow every night and throws it at the Klingon. He hurries out of bed, throwing on his the long, black overcoat he wore, and his black boots. He had slept in the rest, a white shirt and black pants. He dislodges the knife from the Klingons throat and walks out.
Into total chaos. There are skirmishes in the hallways, between the crew of the War Hawk and the Klingons. Stelam makes his way carefully, taking out those that got in his way, relatively easily since they underestimated him. He eventually makes it to the armory, which is guarded by the crew. He grabs his leather vest, his bandoleer, which contained four knifes, arranged between the grenades that where on both ends. It also had a pouch in the middle with his lock picking and hacking gear. He walks out, catching his pistol and sword from the crewmate that threw it. He then asissted as well as he could in taking back the ship. Meaning he practically organizes everything and everyone and then kills at least twenty-five percent of the enemies. When all was over, he makes his way to the bridge.
When he gets there, he finds it in complete dissaray. Fires and red lights flashing. He catches the nearest crewman.

"Where the in this Universe is the Captain?" Stelam asks.

The crewman looks at him strangely. " Did no one tell you? The Captain is dead, as well as the first mate." the Crewman replies.

Stelam is taken aback. "What? The Captain's dead? How?" he asks eventually.

"The Klingon General took us by suprise. We had our shields down when he decloaked and took the Captain. He hailed us and executed him on screen. Then did the same with the First Mate."
the Crewman answers." Then the boarding parties attacked."

"So I'm captain now?" Stelam asks.

"Yes, sir." the Crewman says sullenly. Then he salutes. Soon the rest of the Bridge crew stops and salutes him too.

Stelam realises what was happening. "Stand down and get this hunk of junk operational!" he yells, imitating the Captain. " ETA on shields!" he says.

"Three minutes, sir, now that the Klingons are gone." replies the Engineering officer.

Stelam nods. "Where the hell is the Klingon ship that attacked us?" he asks.

"They retreated sir. Ready to destroy us when their parties returned." answers a crewman.

"I want our own boarding parties up and ready." he says." Is their bridge within range?"

"Yes sir. We can beam from here, if you want." replies the comms officer.

"I want two of our best fighters up here now, then." Stelam orders.

"Yes, sir." says the comms officer. He hits a few buttons on his console. " Julan and Yah, get to the bridge. Bring your weapons."

Soon they arrive and step from the turbolift. Julan is an Orion, male, and has an assault rifle. He's wearing body armor as well. Yah is an Andorian. He has a chain gun and a metal jerkin.

" I see you're ready, daehlen. What we're doing is getting revenge on the Klivam that killed Hyulan and Svenson." says Stelam, without turning.

"Yes, sir." say Yah and Julan in unison.

"Good." Stelam replies. "Beam us over then."

They beam onto the bridge of a Klingon Bird-of-Prey. The Klingons start to stand, but Stelam kills two with pistol blasts, and Julan and Yah take out everyone else but the General. The General, who is an old Klingon with gray hair and an eyepatch, stands up.

"Well, it would seem that I missed a pirate during my executions. And a green blooded petaQ, too." the Generals says. "Are you ready to die?"

Stelam smiles. "How about a deal, Klivam? You and me, one on one, witha chosen melee weapon. That sound good?" he asks.

The General laughs." Why of course. I choose the bat'leth." He says as he takes one from one of his fallen comrades.

"And I choose this sword." Stelam replies.

They start to circle, in the confined area of the bridge. The General lashes out, yelling. Stelam rolls to the side, then hops onto a console gaining the high ground. The Klingon swings at his feet, and Stelam jumps. He then brings his sword down, but the bat'leth blocks it. They circle again. Then Stelam lunges forward, trying to pierce the Generals heart. He barely blocks it, then follows up with a swing, making Stelam back up. The General roars and starts to advance, spinning the bat'leth. Stelam makes a small smile, and rolls again. Into the Klingons feet, tripping him and making him almost kill himself. The General is trying to recover when Stelam grabs him by his hair, pulling his head up with a foot in his back.

"This is for the Captain..." whispers Stelam as he cuts the Generals throat.

As the General slowly dies, Stelam taps his comm. "Beam us back. And prepare a full spread of torpedoes." he says as he takes down the ships cloak and shields.

The Team return to the War Hawk. Stelam is tired, obviously.

"Gerrard, you were third officer. Now, you're first. Organize the rest of the crew and repairs. I'm going to sleep. Also, after the boarding party, arrange a salvage party. i want this ship repaired as faast as possible." says Stelam as he walked to the turbolift.

"Have my stuff brought to the Captains Quarters. I if i find one thing missing, I will personally skin all of you..." he says as the door closes.

He makes his way to his new quarters and collapses onto bed...
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