Deleted
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Post by Deleted on Jul 6, 2006 18:27:48 GMT
Cyle stopped dead when he heard a branch break, he pulled his spear up and pointed it to wards the noise, his marines and everyone else readying their weapons as well. Out from the woods appeared a lone scout, barely visible, but able to be seen by the moons glow. He stopped in his tracks, wide eyed with a mixture of terror and adrenaline. Suddenly he bolted back the way he came from, with Cyle close behind him. The group ran to catch up, and almost ran into Cyle, who was stopped only a few hundred paces away with multiple swords and spears pointed at him. "i don't think this is the welcoming party" he said .
OOC i don't know if we have a translator or not, but i figured they could speak somehow to were we understood them.
IC
"Why do you chase one of your brothers? And, why do you were such strange cloths?" They heard one of the locals call, who appeared to be in charge of this scouting party. Cyle was about to speak, but was quieted by Steve, who assumed the role of leader. <tag Steve>
'what is he doing? Cyle thought to himself, still holding his spear. 'I hope they don't realize I'm not wearing their colors' He thought as he looked at his marines and back at the scouting party. "Wait" The local in charge said, cutting Steve off from what he was saying. "bring me a light" He said again, Cyle shook his head in disbelief. moments later a torch was brought forth to the man out stretched hands, he swung the torch in front of Cyle, showing yellow and purple colors, instead of red and blue. "Kreld Scum!" the man called out, tossing the torch aside and pulling out a sword, he swung at Steve who blocked and engaged him further. Cyle stabbed his spear throw the nearest local, and flung him aside, pulling out his sword. Remembering the training he took from a holodeck program, and the added bonus of his marines, Cyle and his marines circled up, and then split, charging at the locals.
Cyle ducked a sword and stabbed upward gutting the Draamar, kicking back wards he knocked another one down. taking a quick look around, he fought his way back to one of his marines, who was on the ground blocking repetitively the blows coming from two of the locals. Cyle picked up a spear from the ground and threw it, lodging the spear in one locals chest. The other Draamar looked up, only to be stabbed in the stomach by the downed marine. "thanks major" he said as Cyle helped him up.
In a matter of minutes, the scouting party had been killed, taking a quick head count, Cyle noticed he had lost two marines. "is anyone else hurt?" he called out, standing over the two dead bodies of his comrades. <tag All> "Major, more locals coming from behind us" he heard a marine yell out. Cyle, as well as the other senior staff ran to where he was, "are you sure?" Cyle asked, the marine pointed ahead, and sure enough a trail of flickering lights could be seen coming closer. " we cant out run them, not with the injuries we have" someone said behind him, Cyle dropped his head for a moment, thinking as fast as he could. He looked up, and from the side of his eyes he saw movement, and a flash of yellow and purple running from the trees back to the main army. "Someone was in the trees, wearing these colors" Cyle said, pointing to the clothing he was wearing. "it seems the scouting party was being spied on"<tag all>
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Harrias Jira
Commodore
Registered: Apr 27, 2003 20:24:58 GMT
Posts: 2,347
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Post by Harrias Jira on Jul 9, 2006 15:24:02 GMT
Waking on his back; a strange position, but one that his damaged arm had forced upon him; Harrias lay staring up at the low ceiling of the tent above him. The low green fabric shone brightly as the morning suns cast their rays over the camp. He yawned as he arose, propping himself up into a seated position. Slipping a comfortable pair of pants on from his pack, he slowly walked down to the lake.
As he peered into the dark greeny-blue water, he was amazed by how clear it was in spite of the darkness. He smiled a wry smile as he realised how rarely they were on pre-industrial worlds that hadn’t overly polluted their planet. He considered for a second or two going for a swim, but he only had to move his arm slightly to realise how impossible that truly was. He let out a small sigh of resignation, and used his good arm to splash water over his torso, cleaning it all over with some of the chemical soap he had found in the survival pack.
Feeling cleaner once again he walked back up to the camp and pulled on a khaki shirt, realising that the red command shirt might be a bit too bold to wear when they were trying to remain hidden from the locals. He settled down on the ground, crossing his legs as he reached out for a ration pack. He ripped it open, letting the foil float to the ground where he moved a small stone onto it to prevent it being blown away in the light wind.
Having finished the grain bar that had been his allocated pack, he looked around at the group of his crew that was sat around the remains of a fire. Frek and Hannah were sat almost opposite him, talking quietly to one another, presumably nothing too business-like judging from the smiles that kept appearing at the corners of their mouths. Jason was sat to his right with a small group of his engineering team clustered around him, all whispering together in excited dialogue. In contrast to the senior staff pair, he suspected that they were exchanging ideas on how to get the technology working again. The other two figures, both sat in silence were the two that had been in the pod with his first officer. He recognised one as Al’Azif a human from Syria he recollected. The other was one of the newer staff members, a young petty officer whose name eluded the trill captain for the moment.
As he drank a hot mug of soup that had been tucked in next to the grain bar, he spoke quietly to the group. “Unfortunately, as we all know our technology isn’t working, which means that among other things, we have no way of communicating with the rest of the crew, nor any way of knowing where they are. More to the point at the moment though, is that fact that we don’t know where the planet’s inhabitants are exactly. We’ve had a few sightings, but we need to create a map, to know where they are, what their habits are, and how we can best avoid them. So today, and until we know what’s going on, we will reccy the area and find out all we can about our new neighbours. We’ll keep it simple, I don’t want any more chance of losing people. Every time we go out, we will leave a couple of people here and all the rest of us will go together. We’ll leave in 30 minutes, myself, Stevenson, Thelev and Al’Azif. Everyone else will stay here.”
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Deleted
Registered: Apr 19, 2024 4:10:45 GMT
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Post by Deleted on Jul 10, 2006 17:58:34 GMT
As Cyle led his men against the local scouting party Melain and her med team stuck to the shadows. Hesitantly Melain drew an arrow and set it to her string, why had she taken a weapon, she was hardly prepared to use it? "Cyle, stand down, we don't need any bloodshed? why where marined incapable of looking at other solutions to conflict, they could explain that they where undercover spies, or something, they'd ruined that oppertunity now.
Then the bloodshed was over, Melain darted forward out of the bushes, med kit in hand. Two Marines where beyond help, even if Melain had an entire infirmary at her disposal, if Cyle kept up this behavio he'd lose all his men. Rachel was doctoring up another Marine.
"More locals behind us!" one of the marines yelled, from the remaining flames on the tents Melain culd see that these warriors wore a different colour, in fact it wasd the same colour Cyle was wearing, but Melain was not eager to continue this.
"Cyle, take off that tunic!" She orderd, "and stand your ground."
"Are your crazy doctor?" Cyle replied.
"Look, we have just killed a great deal of their enemies, that is good hopefully they won't attack us then, but we can't have one of two of us looking like them and the others not." Melain tried to explain. "Your haven't noticed, but after that little fight your prosthetics are lose and I can't fix them in time. We also can't outrun them and I won't take a risk and have us lose more men. Just let me do the talking, keep your weapons down, if that's too difficult for you then drop them."
"Show yourselves, are you friend or foe?" A voice called out from the direction the scouting party was first spotted.
"That depends on who you are; the enemy of our enemy is our friend, come into the light brother so we may look upon the face of a future allie." Melain replied, she was careful to use the most diplomatic of words and still sound sure of herself.
"Put your weapons down, then we will enter the clearing. I have men stationed all around you, string taught on the bow." The local replied.
"Do what he says." Melain orderd. "Are you the Kreild?" she asked.
"We are, you have slain the Draamar we have been hunting, they killed our friends who's tents you are staning around." The bearere of the voice stepped into the flickering light, he was tall, and his hair was kept back in a braid. He bore a tattpp of some sort of bird of prey on his high forhead. Behind him other fully armed men stepped forward, some had war paint on their brow ridges or beads in their hair. All wore the purple and Yellow colours. "You, what are you?"
Melain expected this. "We come from a land far from here. We are pilgrams, who travel in air ships. Perhaps you saw us?"
"We saw and where sent to investigate, your vessels did not look well." The man replied.
"The Dramaar shot us down, they are now our sworn enemies." Melain lied. "I am Lorre Melain, these our my comrads, Cyle, Steve, Rachel...' Melain went through and introduced the entire party, she noticed that the Kried scouts had relaxed the hold they had on their weapons, this was a very good sign. 'There where many of us, but most have been slain, I have friends who we are still looking for, have you found anyone else like us? They could be confused or delirouse and I fear for their health and safety."
"We have never encounterd anyone like you before. I am Commander Jeresh, my people have been defending ourselves against the Dramaar for many years, recently the gods have favored them, sending a draught across our lands and diseases against our childern. Your presence is a sign they are prepared to favor us again, if you join us I am certain I can convince our leader, Rubal, to help you find the rest of your people." Jeresh's voice waverd, he sounded as though he was begging, how could Melain turn him down?
"I need to speak wth my own people for a moment, please excuse us." Melain turned to Steve. "What should we do?"
<tag others>
(9361/81477)
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davidramsey
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Registered: Apr 19, 2024 4:10:45 GMT
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Post by davidramsey on Jul 10, 2006 19:54:53 GMT
David stumbled through the brush under the weight of his, now, three packs as both Rykan and Siever worked to get all their combadges converted to the solar powered translators. Hollum stumbled along next to David, grumbling and randomly mentioning what he would much rather be doing. When the cook mentioned that he would prefer a long walk on a Risan beach, David heartily laughed and agreed with him.
They'd been steadily marching for nearly three hours and had finally crossed the grasslands and were coming to the foot hills of a rather short mountain range. David looked up and noted that the nearest mount was less than a two kilometers tall while the rest were much larger. He halted with a sigh and dumped the packs.
"Ok, let's take a little break," he said calmly, "and take a stab at that mountain in twenty."
Siever and Rykan both stopped together and sat down, never really taking their eyes off their work. David took out his newly modified combadge and put it on. It was only a little cumbersome with the starfleet silver arrow removed with a strip of sensor trailing lengthwise across the whole device. He hoped it would really work without the ship's massive database to tap into, especially with a new language whose parameters could not be programmed into the little machines. He had a lot of faith in the work of his little away team and he had to trust that they knew what they were doing.
He smiled as Hollum stared at the two petty officers. He turned to David and sneered.
"I don't understand their fascination ... it's a little machine that may not even work, what could they hope to do with such limited resources? What could they hope to accomplish or defeat?" the young cook said with a frown.
"Well, they hope to enable us to function on this planet ... and probably to alleviate their boredom," David replied with a smile, "I would kill for something to alleviate mine."
Hollum looked at him blankly and David laughed.
A few moments later, they were engaged in their attack of the little mountain. David hoped to locate a trail, but he was almost certain that his chances of finding one were next to impossible. They quickly negotiated the greater foot hills and continued their ascent.
It happened in an instant, Hollum slipped and tumbled a few feet down to a ledge. David turned about quickly and found himself staring at the business end of a very long, very sharp, and very well placed blade. David raised his hands and motioned for the other crew to follow suit.
"Who are you and what are you doing?" the humanoid man barked as he pushed the blade even farther into David's throat. There was a second delay between his speaking and David comprehending and he assumed that the translator was doing it's job. He had to trust it to work in his favor as well.
"We are travelers from the south," he said, "we come to trade."
"Trade what? Come out with it!" the guardsman continued.
"Eh ... uh ... to trade services, we are traveling minstrels in search of shelter and food," David replied off the top of his head.
"Minstrels?!" said another humanoid that appeared from behind the guardsman with a blade of his own, "Spies more like it! Those horrific Draamar smell blood and they want to put themselves in position to strike from within. Kill them!"
"No!" said another man, a young man, better dressed than both of David's other aggressors, "I will not have an innocent killed based on speculation. If he is a minstrel he should be allowed to prove himself! Let the man sing ... if his sound is pleasing he shall be delivered to my father. He shall decide the fate of such a party."
"As you wish, your majesty," the other man said with a sneer clasping the guardsman by the shoulder, "Sing us a song, minstrel ... or die."
David gulped audibly and felt the needle edge of the blade. He tried desperately to remember a song, any song that could possibly relate to such medieval people. He struggled and started to lean back from the blade.
"See, your majesty! My assumption was correct!" the man that David considered a nobleman of some sort said to the younger man. He turned to the guardsman and pushed him forward, "Kill him!"
Suddenly, something in David's head clicked. He assumed it was his desire to live powering his memory as a tune erupted from his mouth.
"They say mother earth is breathing With each wave that finds the shore; Her soul rises in the evening For to open twilights door; Her eyes are the stars in heaven Watching o'er us all the while; And her heart it is in Ireland Deep within the Emerald Isle ..."***
The deep twang of his voice rang over the mountains and David actually wanted to die of embarrassment. However, the nobleman fell back as the young "majestic" pulled the guardsman away from David.
"They are minstrels ... bind them and escort them up the main trail. Father will know better what to do with them and I daresay he could use some entertainment," the elegant man replied with a smirk.
"But your Majesty?!" the nobleman insisted with another sneer.
"My word is law, general! Bind them and take them to my father's court!" the younger man replied evenly.
The man bristled at the order, but motioned for the other seven guardsman that had before then remained hidden behind another small embankment. Each of the four federation crew were bound with some wire material, their packs were left uninspected and on their backs, and they were pushed and herded through a massive tunnel that led directly through the mountain. David peered up ahead and saw some light at the end of the tunnel, but a threat from the closest guard make him dip his head down again. It was nearly twenty minutes before they were allowed to look around and David heard several noises, men, women and children going about their lives seemed to stop and watch the captives, but David did not look at any of them.
(OOC: *** "Ireland" by Garth Brooks)
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Deleted
Registered: Apr 19, 2024 4:10:45 GMT
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Post by Deleted on Jul 11, 2006 23:33:50 GMT
"damn that woman" Cyle thought to himself after he had lowered his weapons, and taken the tunic and prosthetics off his face, his marines removing theirs as well. He stood still as he looked over the Kreld army as best he could in the limited light. He noticed many had lowered their weapons and were staring at the StarFleet officers.
"I need to speak wth my own people for a moment, please excuse us." Melain turned to Steve. "What should we do?"
"we should use this to our advantage, i'm sure it would be much easier to find the others if we werent so worried about getting ourselves killed, They are obviously a military based race, me and my marines will have no problem fitting in, aside from our appearance, i'm sure i could convince them to let me have a a few scouting parties to find the others"
<tag Steve>
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steve
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Registered: Apr 19, 2024 4:10:45 GMT
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Post by steve on Jul 12, 2006 16:02:50 GMT
"I need to speak with my own people for a moment, please excuse us." Melain turned to Steve. "What should we do?" "We should use this to our advantage, I'm sure it would be much easier to find the others if we weren't so worried about getting ourselves killed, They are obviously a military based race, me and my marines will have no problem fitting in, aside from our appearance, I'm sure I could convince them to let me have a few scouting parties to find the others" Cyle stated Steve turned his head and looked at Cyle "We will consider it, keep an eye on the rest of the team, myself and Dr Lorre need to have a quick word" Steve extended his arm and walked about 7 meters away from the rest of the group so that they couldn't be heard. "Doctor, this is not good" Steve stated "I know Commander" "We have broken more parts of the Prime Directive in the last 30 mins then we both had our whole time in Star Fleet" Melain nodded "What do we do now then?" she asked looking for advice from her old friend. "We sort out that marine of yours for a start, he cant keep reacting with his fists, he needs to use his head... We cant cause anymore deaths to the people of this planet unless we have no other choice." Melain nodded. "Now about that offer, I don't think we have any choice but to join them, we are already in the middle of this mess and to decline the offer may cost us our lives. If we do join them we must... you must use all of your people powers to distance us from the front lines and the battle, it is no our place to help any planet win a civil war no matter how much it benefits us." Melain looked at him for a few seconds and nodded. Steve wondered what her ideas on the matter were and asked "Doctor what do you think we should do?"
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Deleted
Registered: Apr 19, 2024 4:10:45 GMT
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Post by Deleted on Jul 13, 2006 3:41:42 GMT
Melain sighed, she was tired. Perhaps form lack fo sleep, perhaps it was something more then that. She liked to consider herself an optamist, believing that Frek and the other senior officers had made it off the ship before it exploded, but that was getting difficult to believe on to. She had to cram back her own feelings of grief, worry and stress to try to tackle the issue at hand, but got te feeling this was going to grow more and more difficult as the days went by. Why did they have to land on an inhabited planet?
She looked around at the group of StarFleet officers and enlisted men and women, "You're right, what choice do we have, we decline their offer and they won't consider us allies, maybe even decide we are enemies. My job is to look after the safety of those around me, declining aid and making enemies goes against that. Besides, don't let Command in on this, but I hold the Hippocratic oath in higher regard then the Prime Directive and not helping these people breaks my oath."
"Just as long as you know, there wil be hell to pay when we get rescued." Steve cautioned.
"No matter what we do know there will be 'Hell to pay' you're right, we've broken the Prime directive already what different does it make if we break it a little more?" Melain replied, she was not entirely sure if she was confident in that statement or not. "As for Cyle, once I have a chance I'm going to sit him down and have a talk. I've met Marines before, most of them are like this, Even Zhuk and I locked horns on occasion and he was practicaly StarFleet."
"If you need any help, let me know." Steve offerd, Melain thanked the Prophets for bringing him back to the crew.
"I will, I'll go talk to this Commander Jeresh. Tell the rest of the group what we have decided. I don’t want any of them taking off because they disagree with us, let them know that as the leading officer my decision stands and I’ll take the heat back home.” Melain took a deep breath and headed up the hill to the Draamar scouts. ‘We gratefully accept and offer you are own assistance as thanks.”
“Excellent, pick up your weapons and follow us. It’s not far from here, but almost impossible to find if you don’t know exactly where you are going.” Commander Jeresh replied. “Alright everyone back to the city.”
Out of the trees a dozen...no, more then that Krield scouts appeared. they had blended in so well with the woods they had completly surrounded the federation group. Melain fell in beside Jeresh, feeling safer now that they had some osrt of an allie. “I am trained in medecine, I have people with me who are excellent in agriculture, we offer all our skills to you in return for any assistance in finding our brothers.”
“Can you fight?” Jeresh asked.
“My skills there are lacking, but there are many among us who can.” Melain replied, maybe this was a bad idea. They travelled the rest of the way in silence.
“Here we are. duck under that underhang and hop over the brook. Two gaurds will be there to question us, let me talk to them.” Jeresh directed, he dissapeared under an overhanging rock face. Melain paused to gather her courage, and followed. As she finished her hop over the stream she looked around, she would never have geussed a city to be here, and yet there it was.
“That’s her, the others will follow.” he heard Jeresh explain. “I’m taking them to see the king now, make sure there are rooms ready for them with food and new clothes.”
The streets of the city where simple, hard packed dirt, the occasional pile of animale manure, locals went about their business looking intense. Soldiers stood around enaging in nervous laughter, childern ran about playing all sorts of games. What struck Melain the most was a lack of elderly and the sunken look of all they had enounterd. They stopped in front of a large building that must have at one point been ornait, but hd fallen into disrepair. “Wait here, I’ll go and explain to King Rubal who you are.” Jeresh hurried on ahead accompanied by two of his scouts. Most of his other men had joined the groups of warriors they’d past along the road.
“The children look horrible, all of them do.” Rachel commented, “I think their life expectancy is mid fifties at most, I haven’t seen anyone older then that.”
Jeresh returned looking excited. “Hurry on in, he is eager to meet you. Another scouting party saw your air ships and reported them earlier. I’ll check into your rooms.”
(10166/82282)
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steve
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Registered: Apr 19, 2024 4:10:45 GMT
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Post by steve on Jul 13, 2006 14:20:12 GMT
"I will, I'll go talk to this Commander Jeresh. Tell the rest of the group what we have decided. I don’t want any of them taking off because they disagree with us, let them know that as the leading officer my decision stands and I’ll take the heat back home.” Melain took a deep breath and headed up the hill to the Kreld scouts. Steve took a deep breath as well and headed back to Cyle and the other Starfleet personnel "We have decided to join these people." A few of the officers looked a little surprised but Cyle looked almost happy. "At the moment we are going to offer them any medical and agriculture assistance we can, we are not going to join this war if we can help it so joining them in fighting is a no until either myself or the Doctor decide otherwise." "Commander I have a question" Lex stated "Yes"? "Are we not breaking the Prime Directive by helping these people"? "Both myself and the Doctor have spoken about this and we will take any heat about the breaking rules. The problem about being under the command of a Doctor is she is concerned about life a little too much and to hell with the rules." Steve said with a smile as he could see a few of the people with them were looking a little worried. "The decision has been made, Jira left the Doctor in command and I am in full agreement with the choice she has made." All of the officers around Steve nodded "Now it looks like we are ready to move" Steve said pointing to the doctor who was finishing off her conversation "Lets move"
Steve and the rest of the team walked about 3 or 4 meters behind the Doctor and the Commander of the Kreld party, there seemed to be loads of them around them more appearing the longer they walked. Steve didn't want anything to kick off to fell back a little to have a word with Cyle. "Major" Steve started "Yes Commander?" he replied "No matter what happens you do not attack these people or defend us unless ordered to do so, our actions here could be the difference between our lives and death." "Understood" Steve stepped up his pace and cough up with the Doctor who had come to a stop. "Here we are. duck under that underhang and hop over the brook. Two guards will be there to question us, let me talk to them." Jeresh directed, he disappeared under an overhanging rock face. Melain paused to gather her courage, and followed. Steve waited a few seconds and followed with the rest of the crew behind him. "Wow" Steve said a little louder then he had expected. He saw what looked like a city. It reminded him of the old, very old pictures he has seen back at school when learning about the Tudor times in old England, but even this seemed a little more primitive. The houses were very badly built, made out of wood with holes where glass windows should have been. You had to walk in the middle of the road as there was human waste running down either side of the road. They were taken to a larger building. “Wait here, I’ll go and explain to King Rubal who you are.” Jeresh hurried on ahead accompanied by two of his scouts. Most of his other men had joined the groups of warriors they’d past along the road. “The children look horrible, all of them do.” Rachel commented, “I think their life expectancy is mid fifties at most, I haven’t seen anyone older then that.” Jeresh returned looking excited. “Hurry on in, he is eager to meet you. Another scouting party saw your air ships and reported them earlier. I’ll check into your rooms.”
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Deleted
Registered: Apr 19, 2024 4:10:45 GMT
Posts: 0
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Post by Deleted on Jul 15, 2006 2:39:37 GMT
OOC what is this, everyone against the Marine, i just need to sleep i think
IC
"We have decided to join these people." Cyle heard steve say, and with a smile he turned to his marines and all grabbed their weapons. The marines were mainly in good spirits on the trip there, When the arrived, Cyle was in awe, kinda. He knew what it was like to live like most of the people here did. 'I thought i had left this life behind me' He thought to himself as he stopped to watch children playing in the streets. Cyle walked with his marines, a little less spirit then earlier, his head held down a bit.
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Deleted
Registered: Apr 19, 2024 4:10:45 GMT
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Post by Deleted on Jul 19, 2006 1:16:53 GMT
The King’s Hall was, like most of the city, in decrepit shape. From the pealing paint, the frayed tapestrys and the crumbling statues Melain could tell it was once a very grand place, her heart went out to these people immediatly and she wonderd what the Draamar’s palace looked like. The hall had been built very long, and abandoned, often broken, chairs lined the sides.
“Most of those who sat there have been murderd by the Draamar. Very few where warriors, most where old advisors, but the Draamar did not care.” A voice, tinted with age, echoed across the room. “Welcome to the city of Irisin, in my youth it was a jewel, now it resembles a smashed pot. I am King Rubal, and you have been sent by the gods.” He said this with such conviction Melain almost believed him, even though she knew it was not true. “Tell me, you have seen rhe city what do you think.”
“That you where once a proud and strong people who’s hospitality has been taken advantage of by an evil you did not expect.” Melain replied, she was not sure this was true, but the Krield’s situation reminded her so much of her own people’s it was hard not to jump to such a conclusion.
“Very close, you where sent by the gods!” Rubal explained. “We let our defences slide almost forty years ago, it wa smy fault, I wanted our people to focus on peace not war. I had hoped the Draamar would do the same, and for a while it seemed they would. But their old king died and his son took the throne. His son hates our people, and struck immediatly. Please, help us. I don’t want to break them, I just want my people and lands to be safe.”
“Your highness, how can you trust these strangers, they don’t even look like us, they could very well by Krield spies.” For the first time Melain noticed a middle aged Krield man in armour standing at Rubor’s right.
“Quaresh is right Rubor, if they are sent by the gods then they need to be tested first, in the past all messangers of the divine had to prove themselves.” This opinion came from an older female on Rubor’s left, her stance and demeanor told Melain two things. One, she was trained in medicine and two, she held a positioon of honour. “Give them a task, one we have struggled with ourselves and one the gods would want tackled. If they sucseed we ally with them, if they do not we cast them out of the city...”
“No, if they fail they must be killed, they have seen the entrance, they know how to get here. We cannot risk that information falling to the enemy, you know that very well Ophila.” Quaresh insisted.
“Quiet, both of you I’m tired of having to be between your fights.” Rubor stopped his advisors. “You are both right. Here is your task.” Melain glanced nervously over at Steve, this was a bad idea, none of them had godly powers and their equipment would not work. “The childern are very sick, so are many of the adults. Find out why and do something to restore their health, then you will pass our test.” “Thank you for the oppertunity to prove ourselves your highness, If this is the task I wish to begin immediatly.” Melain replied, something medical, praise the Prophets, this she could do.
“Jeresh, show them the rooms prepared for them and explain to the people they are to cooperate with them, give them any help they require.” Rubor orderd.
“Your word is my command.” Jeresh made an elaborate bow and beconed for the Away team to copy, Melain did, but she did not catch whether anyone else followed.
Outside the palace Melain beconed Rachel, Steven and Loki over. “Alright, so we have our task. Ths would be easy with our instruments, but we need to face the facts that we don’t have any. So use the five senses, be smart and refer to me if you notice anything. let’s examine some of the ill first and move on from there.”
<Tag Steve, Loki>
It was not hard to find someone ill, Melain asked Jeresh to find them a child and an older Krield with the illness as well as a healthy child and a healthy adult, he never even left the sqaure. Melain looked the child up and down, checking his pulse and compared it to the healthy individual, asking him about how he felt. She had Rachel record her observations on a piece of parchement Jeresh had supplied. She noted that he took awhile to reply, that he seemed uncoordinted, he vomited once, he complained of a headache, he had a hard time remembering things, and seemed both hyper and irritable. Once they had finished questioning both subjects Melain sat down with her team. “We can rule out anything contagouse, otherwise the whole city should be infected. This resembled classic lead poisoning, which would not surprise me given the state of their enviroment.” she explained. ‘The question is, how do they get the lead in their systems? Jeresh, where are the city wells located?”
“We don’t use wells, a river runs right through the city.” Jeresh explained. “I’d like to see it.” Melain asked. Sure enough the water carried a distinctive tinny taste and was an unatural shade of red. “You drink this?” Melain asked. “We have little choice, going out of the city walls means almost certain death.” Jeresh replied. ‘It was not always like this.” “can you compile a scouting party, I want to follow the river upstream.” Melain asked. Jeresh nodded and headed off in the direction the the barracks. Melain sent Rachel to find the Marines.
Soon they where tracking the river out of the city and up into the forest towards the mountains, the water continued to be red. “We go no further then this.” Jeresh explained, stopping at a place where two boulders mirrored each other across the water. “That is Draamar territory.”
“If you wish to save your people you will go futher.” Melain insisted. Sure enough almost 200 meters futher they found the source of the lead. Twisted metal and rusting armour sat in the middle of the river, clean water had built up on the other side, and what came through was tainted. “Get rid of that mess and your people will stop getting sick.” Melain advised. “They are bring poisoned, and I highly doubt the Draamar dumped that there by accident.
Jeresh was about to reply when a high pitched trumpet resounded through the woods. “The Draamar!” one scout shouted, ‘We’re doomed!”
“Retreat, everyone back to the city, a horn call like that is more then a scouting party!” Jeresh commanded.
(11305/83421)
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fthelev
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Registered: Apr 19, 2024 4:10:45 GMT
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Post by fthelev on Jul 19, 2006 16:00:01 GMT
The four stranded Starfleet officer stood grouped near the edge of the forest. Behind them, above the dim green-blue water of the mountain lake the twin suns had reached up far enough in the alien sky to peak over the tops that surrounded the lake like a crown. The intensity of the light that they shed off was bright enough to send a glister skimming over the tarn surface. Frek had washed himself in that same lake earlier. Not the swimming part when they crashed. No, when was woken this morning by Hannah Stevenson. The First Officer and the one that had been on the last watch that night. The water had probably been darker then. Not broken by the intruding rays of solar light. And he could know. He had been peering into the water looking for the hidden dangers it most likely held. You’ve got to agree, you don’t want to stick your head and antennas in when some flesh eating plant lures from the depths below. Cause come one, these things do happen. In the end it really didn’t matter. While he was lying there on his knees Hannah apparently had had the uncontrollable urge to push his head down into the water. Ah well, he still had his antennas un-nibbled at and he was freshened up.
“…so what we are going to do,” Jira concluded his open-air briefing, “Is to see whether we can back track my path from last night and…” By the words ‘last night’ he stopped for a second and glanced at Frek before continuing. “And see if we can find the camp I encountered.” He paused and looked at the officers under his command. So far no-one had any questions or remarks. “With a little luck we can study them unnoticed and map their positions and hopefully gather some information about what we are dealing with here.” His eyes made another round past his team. “Any questions?” With all remaining silent and all nodding in unison he reacted with a pleased, “Good!”
Well, that was something different than your standard meeting in the conference room. Frek had to admit, it had its charm. Perhaps they could recreate it on the holodeck. He sneezed. “Bless you,” Hannah said and when he sneezed again she asked with a raised eyebrow, “You don’t have hay fever, do you?” Frek shook his head and sniffed. “Nah, not that I know of.”
The forest looked far less chilling than it did last night in the dark, when it was smothered in its unnatural silence. But now, with the suns bringing light, they also brought life. It was filled with the bristling sounds of small animals making their way through the trees and the quiet chattering of birds. High above them the trees formed a natural roof with their wide-leafed branches blocking the direct sunlight. Though there were enough holes in the natural ceiling to provide for some fainted lighting, with stream of light pouring through the gaps. For a moment it almost looked a bit surreal and serene. The group stopped to take their bearings. Captain Jira halted and looked around. “I’m pretty sure I passed this place last night,” he said taking in the small clearing. Al’Azif’s faces suddenly brightened. “Yeah,” he said enthusiastically, “Isn’t this the place where Mr Thelev and Commander Stevenson jum…” He caught a warning look from Hannah and Frek gesturing wildly to shut up. One glance at the foul look the Captain’s face and it seemed to be a very safe decision to swallow the rest of the sentence. Frek breathed out slowly. It was probably best not to remind his commanding officer of that incident too often. He was pretty sure he wouldn’t forget for the time being. Not much chance of being promoted to admiral any time soon.
Frek looked around carefully, looking out for wildlife and the local inhabitants of this planet. It wouldn’t be exactly in their favour if they danced around the wrong turn and banged into them. The chance was they would respond by banging an axe into their heads. And as everyone with a bit of sense knows, you really wouldn’t like that to happen to you. Following the path seemed far easier then anyone expected. “Seems like you more or less followed an existing path sir,” Frek commented. Jira nodded. With his arm broken and it being in the middle of the night he hadn’t really felt like crawling through the bushes with the intent of jumping someone. Unlike some others. “This could very well be an animal trail,” Jira said and gestured to where they had come from, “It leads almost directly to lake.” It didn’t take them very long to reach the edge of the forest, where the trees had given way to the bracken. Thus far nothing much could be seen besides the meadow. It seemed likely that the tents Jira had spotted were on the other side of the low hill that reached its top in the middle of the peninsula of fern that had penetrated the woods.
“We could stay in the rim of the trees and make our way around,” Hannah suggested. It sounded quite the right thing to do. By staying in the tree line they would stay hidden and still be able to approach the encampment. Al’Azif raised a finger and coughed politely. “Sirs, if I may suggest something…” The others turned their look away from the open field and towards the Arab. “What is it?” He scraped his throat. “It may sound stupid…” Involuntarily Jira and Hannah glanced at Frek; usually he was the most likely candidate to say something stupid. “…but if one of us could climb into one of the trees we could probably oversee the whole area and everyone in it,” Al’Azif continued. Frek smirked, that was a stupid idea. Jira smiled, “That’s an excellent idea.” “We need a volunteer though.” All eyes turned into the same direction. Frek was painfully aware of that. He moaned, why were they all looking at him for? “Mr Thelev,” Jira stated happily, “This tree is high enough and it seems climbable.” “But sir,” Frek tried to protest, “It is rather high and…” “Yes, if it wasn’t there wouldn’t be much point in climbing it, now would there?” Jira said logically. It was rhetorical question. Clearly Frek wasn’t entirely thrilled with the idea. Sure, he had climbed enough trees when he was a kid. He had fallen out of some as well. Besides, did the Captain really need to pick him? Frek took the binoculars that had been reached out to him and hung it around his neck so that he would have his hands free. He stood by the base of the tree, looked up and sighed. There was a moment of hesitation. “Come on Frek,” Jira said, “You have no problem launching yourself with those anti-grav jet powered skis of yours, but you don’t want to climb a tree?” “At least my anti-grav jet powered skis are safe,” Frek murmured as he grabbed the lowest branch. “I think the doctor would disagree on that,” someone said as he hoisted himself to the next branch. One tiny little accident and they keep reminding you of that, Frek thought, it was simply not fair. It was not his fault the slope had ended in a cliff. Besides, how would they know about that anyway? It was over a year ago and before he had even joined the Nevada crew. Slowly but steadily he progressed to the top. So far all went fine. There were enough branches to hold on to, and this time they weren’t even covered with thorns or some sticky substance that would keep itching for ages.
“Can you see anything yet?” Hannah shouted. Frek quite pointlessly shook his head. “No,” he yelled back, “Not yet! Need to get a bit higher.” Still too many branches blocking his view. But a little overhead he saw a branch that looked sturdy enough to carry his weight. There was also a little window in the thick cover of the leaves. It would be an ideal spot. Frek sighed and wiped some sweat from his forehead, took a deep breath and hoisted himself in place. “Okay, think I found a good spot!” he yelled down. “Let us know what you see,” Jira ordered, “We’ll make notes.” Frek couldn’t exactly see who was talking, his view blocked, but he recognized the voices. Frek didn’t reply but while supporting himself with one hand he reached for the field glasses with the other and brought it to his eyes. The vision was blurred. Normally this would be a nice little piece of standard Starfleet equipment. Automatically focussing on the object of interest, and supplying the user with range information, compass directions and if supported, coordinates. But like almost everything containing electronics, all those nice and handy little features were fried like a potato turned into a crisp. But the lenses were still made of glass and thus still of use. Carefully Frek pulled his left hand from the tree to adjust the focus on the binoculars manually and soon he saw what they were looking for. He was high enough to see over the low hill and the camp that was set up at the base on the other side of it. Mostly round tents grouped in lanes. All blue and red, the colours a bit faded by the sun. A large square was left open in the middle of the camp. In the middle stood a tent that was considerably bigger then the others. It also seemed to be surrounded by breast high stakes, some sort of primitive defence. The camp could easily house thousands. There was something odd about it though.
Frek relayed everything he saw to his comrades waiting below. “You think it is some sort of nomadic city?” Jira wanted to know. Frek raised the binoculars again and took another look. “No,” he replied, “It doesn’t look like it. Everything seems to be set up in some sort of military fashion.” It remained quite for a moment until Hannah finally shouted up, “An expeditionary force?” Clearly she didn’t expect an immediate answer. “Can you see any of the aliens?” “Just a sec,” Frek replied, “I need to get a better view.” Slowly he shuffled a bit forward along the branch. It cracked a bit, but not very loudly and it didn’t seem to be in breaking danger. It turned out to be far less bad than he had anticipated. The field glasses returned to his eyes. The camp seemed to be virtually deserted. Almost a ghost town. Now he new what had struck his as odd. Then he spotted some movement. Two what seemed to be adult males came walking from around the palisade protecting the main tent in the camp. Perhaps that was their command centre or the quarters of their chief in charge. Then he spotted two additional people at the far end of the camp. Sentries?
“Except from what seems to be some guards the camp seems to be empty sir,” Frek reported down. He confidently stood on the branch and peered down. Nothing could go wrong. “Perhaps all the soldiers are out and…” And then he slipped. His arms flailed wildly in an effort to sustain himself. The branch started to creak loudly and finally cracked. He yelled as he plummeted down towards the steady earth. On his way he hit several branches. In someway good since they broke his fall. And it felt as if not only his fall had been broken.
“Mr Thelev, Frek,” a worried voice said, “Can you hear me? Are you alright?” Frek opened his eyes. A blurred shape hovered above him. Could be the face of one his crewmates. Or a shrivelled coconut. “Pain,” he groaned pitifully. “I think I’m dead...” As it was of course, he wasn’t dead. Far from it. He actually hadn’t even broken a thing. Apart from all the branches on the south side of the tree that is. At worst he had some severely bruised ribs and a lot of bruises all over the rest of his body. He would be okay. “I’ll be scarred for life,” he moaned when he was back to his feet, “I’m never going to do that again.”
Based on the information gather from Frek’s little climbing adventure they decided to follow the trail that went on into the bracken. If it was true and the camp was deserted, it would be very unlikely they would encounter anyone. That didn’t mean they let their guard down. They progressed fairly slowly and carefully. “The trail looks like it is not only being used by wildlife,” Al’Azif commented. “What if it’s used by the locals as well?” “We’ll have to be careful not to be spotted,” Jira assured him, “If we keep our eyes and ears open we can easily avoid them.” They almost reached the top of the hill. “No problem.”
Then they stood eye in eye with four or five of the locals. They had come over the top of the hill the same time they did. They all carried swords, but they were all in their sheath. Between them they carried a large piece of canvas tied to two poles. It looked like they were out for firewood. They had been laughing about something when they had come over the top, but it had quickly died away as they stood head-to-head with the alien looking strangers. “Who are you?” the one who was walking upfront asked suspiciously, his hand on the hilt of his sword ready to draw. Jira swallowed. “Uhm…we are, eh, travellers. We come from far.” The soldier in charge laughed. “I can see that. Why do you all look so funny and why are you dressed like that? Where are you going to?” Those were a lot of questions. Suddenly Hannah had a brainwave. “We are all dressed up for the carnival,” she lied, “In the city.” “The Kreld city?” His eyes narrowed. “No no no, absolutely not,” Jira hastened to say. “Humph,” was the only reply. He turned around to his comrades. “You hear that? They say they’re on the way to the carnival. In the city.” The others all started to laugh. He turned back to the little group of Starfleet officers standing in front of him. “You see, carnival ended weeks ago,” he smirked and nodded towards Frek, “And what’s the deal with him. All the blue and those sticks on his head?” Apparently he still didn’t see them as a threat, more as a joke. None of them made any attempts to reach for their weapons. Jira bent forward towards the alien leader and said softly in a conspiring tone, “We know it’s over, but…” He glanced over his shoulder towards Frek and nodded barely noticeable in his direction, “But he’s, well, you know. A bit off. We’re doing it all for him.” “A bit off?” The soldier glanced towards Frek who grimaced trying to ignore the pain from his fall. Jira nodded. “Yeah he fell out of a tree when he was a kid. Landed on his head. And since then…” Jira shrugged as if that said it all. “I never landed on my head!” Frek hissed towards Hannah. “Shhh!” The soldier shot a pitiful understanding glance towards Frek. “Oh, I see…well carry on. But be careful. This is a war zone.”
He was just about to let him go when two additional soldiers in the same uniform came running up the hill. Apparently they had been running for a while, they were panting like a horse who had been walking through a dessert for days without any water and their faces were all red. “Sir, sir,” the first one to arrive panted. The officer looked around at the men. “What is it, man?” He sounded a bit annoyed. “Sir, we’ve just come from the frontline. We just attacked the Kreld city and…” “I know, I would be there if hadn’t been put on guard duty, get on with it!” “The city sir, the Kreld have received reinforcements,” the sweaty guys stumbled. The officer didn’t look pleased. “Reinforcements?” “Yes sir. Strangers. They look weird, and they’re all dressed the same. All…” Then his eyes fell upon the four Starfleet people and he stumbled back. “They we’re all dressed like that!” He pointed at the three officers still dressed in uniform. Jira had been the only one who had actually changed. Frek and the others stared at each other in disbelief. Weird looking people dressed like them. That could only mean one thing. The others! The other crewmembers from the Nevada. Frek could feel his heart jump. There was a good chance Melain was with them and hopefully safe.
The soldiers had all dropped the canvas and their hands were no longer on the hilt of the swords. The swords were now firmly in their hands. “Arrest them!” the officer ordered.
(10162/109136)
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davidramsey
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Registered: Apr 19, 2024 4:10:45 GMT
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Post by davidramsey on Jul 20, 2006 17:07:51 GMT
David was inevitably marched into a large structure that resembled what once could have been a palace. It was heavily dilapidated and looked almost like it would shatter at a moment's notice. David subconsciously struggled to back out and away from the structure, but his captors were not willing to allow such a retreat. He gingerly bounced inside the "building" looking up at even the slightest sound of shifting stone.
His guard shook him to his knees before a rather large man with a dense unkempt beard and formerly grand apparel that was now in varying stages of decay. David couldn't help but see some familiar traits within this mammoth structure that was bordering on collapse and this mammoth humanoid that looked like he was on his last legs. Both were ragged and rough, too tough to die and too proud to let gravity carry them to their knees ... as far as first impressions go, David had to admit, he'd experienced worse.
"Sire, this ... strange man and his companion's were caught attempting to cross the Drician Range. We discovered them at the mouth of the Kolvir path. They claim to be minstrels from the south. I believe they are spies seeking to weaken our defenses, but Prince Col demanded that your royal highness should decide their fate," the nobleman said sneering at the mention of the young prince.
David was no empath, but he could tell that the Prince was not the nobleman's favorite person. He filed that away for future reference and focused on the task at hand ... namely, keeping the heads of his crew firmly attached to their bodies and hopefully his own as well.
He remained silent, waiting for the grand giant to speak. He was rather surprised when he did ... a soft but throughly strong voice that was simply infused with shrewd intellect and calm insight.
"Spies? Minstrels? Is there really a difference? You do not look like one of mine enemies ... you have no clada," he said plainly, motioning toward David's forehead and his lack of any ridge similar to that of the great king and his men, "I have heard of flat headed men to the far east ... you say you come from the south. I know the men of the south, they look nothing like you."
David swallowed audibly, his mind caught up trying to read the man's expression and failing miserably. He seemed more amused than threatened and that is always a plus when someone is holding your life in their hands.
"We come from a land across the south seas," David croaked out after the point of a blade suddenly materialized at the small in his back, "We are the first of our people to travel this far to the north."
The man considered the answer and motioned to one of his retainers. He whispered something in the man's ear before returning his attention to David.
"The first? Yes ... I daresay you are," he continued with a queer look that gave David the impression that others of the Nevada crew might have already made contact with these people. He was unsure of how to react to this possibility so he tried to look unphased by the slight smirk.
"Dashar, take these minstrels to the galzaa and have them properly fed and hydrated ...We may be on the brink of extinction, Dashar, but that does not mean we shall be inhospitable and rude to our guests. It shall not be long before we lose the opportunity to do our legacy justice," the King said flatly as Dashar attempted to argue. There was a new tone to the man's powerful voice ... it was fatigue and sadness of a sort that David felt on a rather deep level. A leader on the brink of absolute failure.
As he and his crew were jerked away toward the galzaa which turned out to be a large, cavernous kitchen including an old style hearth so massive David was certain a full grown gorilla would have been able to roam around within it without suffering the slightest hint of claustrophobia. A washing woman smiled at them even as the Dashar shoved him down into a roughly hewn, wooden chair and their restrains were removed.
They were each given water and a plate of what appeared to be bread and some sort of jam. There was also a slab of slightly green meat on each plate as well ... but each decided independently that green was just the wrong color for meat. Hollum watched the old washer woman working a large pot on the nearest fire.
David returned his attention to the Dashar that had apparently removed himself to another room to discuss something with the guards posted outside the room. The young officer motioned for his crewmates to come closer.
"Ok, now what?" was all he could say before Dashar returned with a foul expression on his face and silence was pressed on them once more. He would have to think of something on his own and trust his little crew to follow his lead. Looking across the table at each crewman in turn David worried about pressing his luck.
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steve
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Registered: Apr 19, 2024 4:10:45 GMT
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Post by steve on Jul 20, 2006 23:59:22 GMT
Outside the palace Melain beckoned Rachel, Steven and Loki over. “Alright, so we have our task. This would be easy with our instruments, but we need to face the facts that we don’t have any. So use the five senses, be smart and refer to me if you notice anything. let’s examine some of the ill first and move on from there.” Steve looked at her for a moment "Well the state of these people, it wont be hard to find someone with something ill with them". "I know" The doctor replied "Just have a look around and make it look like you are doing something, we need to gain these peoples trust and even if only one or two of us can do anything medical too help these people it will help keep us safe." Steve nodded, there was method to the doctors mad plan that he may be able to help someone that was sick. Steve walked around an area of the town not going to far from the rest of the team. Almost all of the people he saw were suffering from something, bad co-ordination, vomiting, headaches and both hyper and irritable. Steve had seen enough and decided to make his way back to Lorre, as he got closer to her he saw Rachel hurrying off. "Doctor is everything ok?" Steve called out as he got closer to her "Well Commander I think we have made a break through on why these people are so sick." "Is it something contagious?" Steve asked butting in "No I don't think so, it looks like classic lead poisoning and I am guessing it is from their water source which is from a local river." "Great, so how do we fix it?" "I just sent Rachel to get the Marines and Jeresh has gone to get a scouting party to walk up the river and see if we can find the source of the lead." Steve nodded and waited with the doctor for the others to get back and as soon as they did they were ready to head off.
Soon they where tracking the river out of the city and up into the forest towards the mountains, the water continued to be red. “We go no further then this.” Jeresh explained, stopping at a place where two boulders mirrored each other across the water. “That is Draamar territory.” “If you wish to save your people you will go further.” Melain insisted. Sure enough almost 200 meters further they found the source of the lead. Twisted metal and rusting armour sat in the middle of the river, clean water had built up on the other side, and what came through was tainted. “Get rid of that mess and your people will stop getting sick.” Melain advised. “They are bring poisoned, and I highly doubt the Draamar dumped that there by accident. Jeresh was about to reply when a high pitched trumpet resounded through the woods. “The Draamar!” one scout shouted, ‘We’re doomed!” “Retreat, everyone back to the city, a horn call like that is more then a scouting party!” Jeresh commanded.
Cyle started barking orders at his men and they started to change their positions. "Doctor we need to go now" Steve suggested, grabbing her arm and pulling her in the directions that they came. "But we can help these people" She replied pulling against Steve "Doctor we can come back for it, maybe at night when we wont be seen... If we stay now we will die." "Ok Steve" she said and they both headed back the way they came. Jeresh knew the area well and managed to evade the following Draamar until there was no sign of pursuit and they all made their way back to the town. When they returned to the town they all headed back towards the King’s Hall "I must report to the King what we have found" Jeresh said "You two come with me and explain what everything means" pointing to both Lorre and Steve Jeresh walked off quickly and both officers followed behind him heading to report their findings to the King.
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Deleted
Registered: Apr 19, 2024 4:10:45 GMT
Posts: 0
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Post by Deleted on Jul 22, 2006 5:55:36 GMT
"Doctor we need to go now" Steve suggested, grabbing her arm and pulling her in the directions that they came. "But we can help these people" She replied pulling against Steve "Doctor we can come back for it, maybe at night when we wont be seen... If we stay now we will die." "Ok Steve" she said and they both headed back the way they came.
Melain followed, reluctantly, Steve had let go of her arm, and as the group travelled she fell further behind. Leaving the rusting metal meant the sickness would continue... her thoughts where soon interupted when a column of smoke off to the side of their path caught her eye, Melain thought she saw a series of broken branches leading off from the smoke “Steve, I think it’s a pod!” she yelled ahead, but the call went unoticed by the rest of the group, ove run by their haste and the nearing trumpets.
Then Melain did something both foolish and brave, but mostly foolish, she investigated the smoke herself. The pod lay only about 25 meters from the river, it’s path had been halted by a large collection of boulders, but by the path behind it Melain could tell it had been encountering quite a few obstacles before then. The nearby bushes where smouldering, but any fire had gone out. The pod it’self was in rough shape, it too was smouldering. Melain walked around it to the other side, searching for the hatch.
The hatch looked as though it had been forced open, and the pod was empty. Wrappers from survival packages lay discarded on the floor, and a pool of red blood stuck them there. Who had been in this pod? The blood trail led into the trees, Melain followed. Someone was injured, they neeed her help. From the sounds of the trumpets, the Draamar where coming closer, Melain did not have a lot of time.
The trail of blood ended in another clearing and a grisly sight. Six bodies lay prostrate on the ground, one was bleeding from the head (this had created the trail), all had arrows sticking up from their backs. An execution, a massacar. Fighting the urge to run, to vomit, to weep uncontrollably, Melain crept closer. The security officer who always had a smile on as he did his rounds, The engineer who could never accept the fact Melain never found anything wrong with him. Melain said a quick and silent prayer for each one, trying not to think about how horrific their last few minutes of life had been. She closed their eyes and continued down the line.
The middle body had the uniform of a Navigations officer, his soft brown hair sticky with blood. Melain lifted his head slightly, cupping it in her hand her fingers clasped at a chain on his ear, she began to shake as she turned the head toward her “Noo, By the Prophets this isn’t right!!” she wailed, it was Toledo Javelle. Her confident, the Bajoran who’s helped her on so many occasions in so many ways. One of so few Men she could have seen herself with. First the other senior officers, and now Toledo, so many deaths and Melain could not help but think that if she had died or given up on Tammaron this could all have been prevented.
The trumpets grew louder, bidding her to run toward the city. Melain felt divided between standing vigil over her friends body and saving her own skin. Tears still streaming down her face she fled. She could have prevented this, she could have insisted they look for the pods before helping the Krield, this men could not have been dead for more then a few hours, that would have been enough time...
She had failed so many people, she should never have tried to do this, she should have stayed on Earth as a nurse, or... Finding an open door into a dark room Melain darted inside, she wanted to hide, to dissapear...
“Who's there?” A voice called out, a light was brought forward illuminating her uniform and Bajoran features, Melain coverd her face and the offending tears, through her fingers she could see that voice belonged to a StarFleet officer. “It’s David, Lieutenant Ramsey, what’s wrong, what’s going on?”
“They are dead, so many are dead.” Melain replied hoarsly. “I can’t do this... I failed.”
(12052/84168)
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hannah
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Registered: Apr 19, 2024 4:10:45 GMT
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Post by hannah on Jul 22, 2006 14:18:50 GMT
The seven men drew their swords and surrounded them. They were out numbered nearly 2 to 1 and they had no working weapons due to this solar flare. Hannah could also hear the matching of the rest of the army returning from the battle coming closer, the chance of them escaping alive was minute.
The 4 officers stood still offering no resistance, indicating their surrender. One of the officers moved behind Hannah pressing his sword against her back and pushed her forward leading her towards the larger centre tent and the other officers were forced in the same way towards the centre tent.
They waited in the tent for what seemed like hours before a man entered though the door followed by several armed officers. Hannah guessed from his more decorated uniform and the way officers acted around him he was in charge of this camp of military officers.
One of the Damaar moved over the starfleet officers and bided each of their hands behind their backs and then they took their bags of them and passed them over to the leader.
The leader emptied each of the bags onto the floor; he looked down at the equipment intrigued at the assortment of objects from ration packs to medical equipment to phasers to touches.
“Search them,” he ordered to the officers who had followed him into the tent. The officers strolled over to the four starfleet officers and searched them finding a few extra pieces of equipment.
“What’s this?” the man said picking up the tricorder and looking it over. The officers glanced at each other trying to think of something of say, to explain what it was. Hannah was glad that he wouldn’t be able to use any of there equipment because of the solar flare.
He moved over to them, shoving the device into Frek face.
“What is this?” he repeated again angrily, he moved along the line looking at each of the four starfleet officers showing them the device waiting for a response. Hannah was the last one in the line and getting no response from the others he decided to take a new approach. He motioned to the officer behind Hannah and he grabbed her by her shoulder and forced her down onto her knees.
“What is it?” he repeated for the third time gripped her by her throat and slammed his hand across face, knocking her towards the ground. Her lip began to bleed and the officer behind Hannah stared down at the blood surprised at the colour, but the leader ignored the colour as if he’d seen the colour before. He indicated for the other officer to pick her up again and he smack her to the ground again.
Hannah said nothing. And this time he took his sword out moving it towards her throat.
“It’s just a object given to us for luck before when we left home,” one of the other starfleet crewmembers said.
He threw the object to the floor, not demonstrating whether he believed them or not. But choosing to move onto the question.
“Where do you come from and why did you come here?” he asked.
“As we told your officers we are from the south, here for a carnival,” Jira explains.
“Lies, we know you are Kreld spies,” the leader shouted raising the sword again, “We have encountered your people with Kreld.”
Another officer entered into the room.
“General, I have a message from the King,” the officer said interrupting. The general turned his attention away from the four starfleet officers to the young officer.
“He wants the odd looking prisoners bringing to him alive,” the officer informed him. He didn’t look happy at the new orders or the messenger that had delivered them.
“Cover their eyes and then we will take them to the city to see the King,” he ordered to his officers a few moments later.
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davidramsey
Guest
Registered: Apr 19, 2024 4:10:45 GMT
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Post by davidramsey on Jul 27, 2006 18:53:56 GMT
After finishing what some might have called a meal, David and his group found themselves being shepherded back into what could have been called the throne room. There were many men, ragged and worn as though they had just returned from battle. There among them was the great king, bent over next to the leader of them returning troops. David watched the sovereign as he was shoved and pushed into the great hall. He was not certain, but he could have sworn that the king was ... was he crying? Something had happened and David wasn't sure how this would change his already questionable status amongst these people. He glanced back at Hollum and Siever who both returned his look of inquiry, much to his chagrine. The king, who David had overheard was called Ferad Kreld, retook his place on the dias. He seemed to shiver for a moment before taking his seat on the ill-looking throne.
"Friends, friends of the Kreldanar, thank you for your great service to our blood," he said to the weary soldiers who bowed graciously at his words, he then turned to the rest in the hall, including David and company, "My son and heir, Prince Ferad, is dead at the hands of our tormentors. He suffered a good death; on his feet, blade in hand and I must thank the gods for his good fortune."
He slumped at that moment and David was keenly aware that the king was having trouble holding himself up. Looking around him, the young lieutenant realized that all the heads in the hall were bowed and many were weeping. The prince must have been a beloved young man and despite the fact that he never met the young man, David was sad to hear of his death.
"Ministrel, my young son told me that you could raise a pleasing tune, I should like to hear one now," the old and weary king said.
David suddenly felt the pressure of all those eyes burning into him, all seeking some release or someone for to vent their anger and pain upon. He felt weak under the burden and he suddenly felt all the saliva in his mouth dry up. He croaked again and saw the blades come out. He cleared his throat and tried desperately to remember the song he had sung to save his skin before.
He stepped forward and tried his best to focus.
'They say mother earth is breathing, With each wave that finds the shore; Her soul rises in the evening, For to open twilights door; Her eyes are the stars in heaven, Watching o'er us all the while; And her heart it is in Ireland, Deep within the Emerald Isle;'
He took another step forward and tried to act on the theatrics of the song all while willing himself to remember the lyrics. This was his father's favorite song, a song David Sr. claimed reminded him of a battle he and his skeleton crew on the Rutgers fought against several Jem'Hadar ships, surely he could remember this song.
'We are forty against hundreds, In someone else's bloody war; We know not why we're fighting, Or what we're dying for; They will storm us in the morning, When the sunlight turns to sky; Death is waiting for its dance now, They have sentenced us to die;'
He stepped forward with a broad gesture and much more gusto than he felt.
'Ireland, I am coming home, I can see your rolling fields of green; And fences made of stone, I am reaching out won't you take my hand; I'm coming home, Ireland;'
'Oh, the captain he lay bleeding, I can hear him calling me; 'These men are yours now for the leading, Show them to their destiny;' And as I look up all around me, I see the ragged tired and torn; I tell them to make ready, 'Cause we're not waiting for the morn;'
David turned to allow the soldiers in on his little performance.
'Ireland I am coming home, I can see your rolling fields of green; And fences made of stone, I am reaching out won't you take my hand; I'm coming home Ireland,
Now the fog is deep and heavy, As we forge the dark and fear; We can hear their horses breathing, As in silence we draw near; There are no words to be spoken, Just a look to say good-bye; I draw a breath and night is broken, As I scream our battle cry;
Ireland, I am coming home, I can see your rolling fields of green; And fences made of stone, I am reaching out won't you take my hand; I'm coming home Ireland,
I am home Ireland'
He then decided to return his attention to the king.
'...We were forty against hundreds ... and we were victorious.'
The king shifted in his seat and looked him over curiously. David prayed his song was appropriate and he looked away and into the eyes of a young soldier, covered in muck and blood. There was something about this man, David had looked at him before, but now he seemed to stand taller with a stern look on his face. He noticed similar changes on the faces of the other soldiers and as he returned the king's gaze he saw that he was smiling mildly.
"That is a pleasing tune, Minstrel," he said, "Come to me."
David cautiously approached the large man and leaned in closer to him as the man motioned him to do so.
"The other members of your party are on the northern reaches of my land, they have made a peace with us," he said softly, "I should like you to talk to them for me. My people desperately need help, help I cannot provide ... please do what you can to help them see our need. My Dashar will take you to them."
David was happy to hear this, but was not prepared to trust these people completely.
"I will do as you ask," he replied, "If you grant me and my friends our freedom, no strings attached."
"No strings attached?" the king asked with a curious look.
David shook his head not believing his own stupidity, "It means that we would be free and clear."
The old king considered.
"You have my word."
"Then you have a deal. However, is there anyone else that could lead us there. I do not trust your Dashar," David replied.
"Ah, neither do I," the king said with a smirk, "Prince Col and his guards shall lead you."
"Thank you, Sire," David said plainly, "Shall we go now?"
"Aye," he said waving to the young prince as his rather large and burly guards came forward, "Col, take these strangers to the Northern Ridges to meet the daza kai. He shall ... speak with them on our behalf."
Col stood forward and bowed graciously, "Yes, father, we shall leave immediately."
******************************
She was a beautiful Bajoran woman, in a dirty and torn starfleet uniform. David had no idea who she was or why she was there, weeping as she was. As he neared he saw the bodies, fallen crewmembers, one a Bajoran male. He decided not to press for that kind of information.
“Who's there?” He called out, a light was brought forward illuminating her uniform and Bajoran features, and she covered her face and the offending tears, through her fingers she could see to whom the voice belonged.
“It’s David, Lieutenant Ramsey, what’s wrong, what’s going on?” He asked hesitantly.
“They are dead, so many are dead.” Melain replied hoarsly. “I can’t do this... I failed.”
He helped her to her feet and motioned for Siever.
"Siever ... take their combadges ... and the Bajoran's chain. They should be returned to their families."
She nodded solemnly and did as she was ordered.
A few moments later, they were all back at the camp where David had just recently introduced Prince Col to the other crewmembers.
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Deleted
Registered: Apr 19, 2024 4:10:45 GMT
Posts: 0
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Post by Deleted on Jul 28, 2006 3:51:18 GMT
Melain felt hands guide her out of the clearing and the weight of a blanket descend on her shoulders. This man, he was Starfleet. David Ramsey, that was.... she could not seem to remember, the name was important she knew who he was but right now things would not connect. The young human women who was with David handed Melain the earring Toledo had worn so proudly. “I.. I thought you out of all of us would know what to do with it.” she explained quickly, nervously. Melain slowly nodded and clutched the chain to her chest. Her eyes stared sightlessly into the flames and the voices nearby sounded muffled and distant.
Melain felt as though she was trying to find her way in the dark, she was forgetting something important, something life... “The Dramaar!” she yelped, realising the danger the others could not know about the danger. ‘They are close, they are going to the city!”
“She’s right sir, scouts just got back... the trumpets are filling the valley!” another voice added.
“Move, everyone go, we need to help defend the city and we stand no chance out here! You, minstrel, help the strange women to her feet!” this voice belonged to a strong young man in rich, but well armoured clothes. Melain was then aware that she was being helped to her feet and supported by David Ramsey.
She could hear the camp rapidly come down, swords where drawn and strings tightened. “This was, follow me!” the regal young man ordered. Melain, with David’s help, was able to keep up with the others. They ducked under the precipice and leapt over the stream. Around the city entrance many firm faced warriors waited. Melain felt herself get handed over to someone else who led her into a small house. Any other time she might have protested, asked questions, looked around. Now she had a hard time summoning the strength to even keep her eyes open
“Your comrades where very worried about you. Are you hurt?” It was Ophila, the Lord’s female advisor and a healer.
“No, I...” Melain did not know what to say, she was not hurt, but felt pain...
“You’d better shape up. We’ll need you when the attack comes... not used to war are you? Look if you don’t push the feelings back they will consume you and you’ll be the next one the Dramaar slaughter. I’ve seen it happen to too many good young healers. Ignore the violence, ignore the dead and focus on those who’ve still got some life in them.” Ophila ordered. “Here, drink this it will help.” Melain was handed a flagon. “It’s not gonna hurt you I’ve had it many times, sometimes it’s the only thing that keeps me going.”
Melain took a sip, it was warm, but seemed cold. Almost like a strong coffee but it focused her as well as gave her energy. “Thank you.”
“Drink more, it’s gonna be a long day.” Ophila coaxed. “Since you don’t seem to have any of your own salves I’ll lend you my second kit. Fully stocked in anything you’ll need. Keep close and I’ll make sure your doing more good then harm.” Melain was handed a bulky bag with many pockets, it smelled like herbs. “Oh, and your gonna need something else to wear. That makes you stand out like a vrek in a tosey field.” Ophila handed her a set of Krield clothes. ‘Put those on, We can use your old clothes as bandages.”
Melain left the healer’s hut feeling not at all like herself. Her vision seem to focus in on blood, or any other signs of injury and her thoughts did not stray beyond the present moment. Ophila, hands full of supplies, guided her to the centre square. Many other women where setting out pallets and tables, they seemed to know exactly what they where doing. Ophila dropped her load on a table and beaconed two strong looking ladies over “Me and you, we go find the injured and take them here if we can or do what we can for them. These others here will do the rest.” Melain nodded and allowed Ophila to lead her back to the city entrance. ‘All’s ready in the square Quaresh, any news?”
“They’ve set up camp and are preparing siege equipment from what we can tell. I’ve got men reinforcing the walls and gates as well as wetting down the roofs. Those foreigners are clever and helpful.” Quaresh replied. ‘The Lord is in his throne room trying to hammer out a plan.”
“I’ll go speak with him,” Ophila turned to Melain “You, stay here and if fighting breaks out stay out of it. The men will get the injured to you, you take them to the square or treat them here if you have to.” Melain was about to protest, but by the time she figured out what to say Ophila was gone.
The air felt stuffy Melain was certain she smelt smoke. She slid a hand in the bag Ophila gave her, she felt bottles, bandages, dried leaves. She had no idea how to use any of this stuff.
“We’ve got a breach!” Some one yelled. Voices rose and swords where drawn “Already?” “The camp was a distraction, all forward and meet the enemy!” Quaresh’s voice sounded above the others
There was a sudden and rapid flurry of movement as soldiers moved forward around Melain who stood where she was feeling as though she was lost in a current of metal and courage. She thought for a moment she caught sight of Cyle and the other marines decked out in armour, swords drawn. What had they gotten themselves into?
(13002/85118)
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fthelev
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Registered: Apr 19, 2024 4:10:45 GMT
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Post by fthelev on Jul 28, 2006 19:37:22 GMT
“Cover their eyes and then we will take them to the city to see the King,” he ordered to his officers a few moments later.
“Yes sir, it’s in the bag,” the officer replied, returning with some a minute later. One look at them and you were immediately sure you didn’t want to be bagged in them. They seemed to be made out of some sort of jute. Not only did they look a bit shabby and unwashed, they were also spreading a certain scent that most definitely wouldn’t be a hit as a perfume. And besides these discomforts, they also didn’t have any holes in them for his antennas Frek soon noticed as the bag was violently placed over his head. It didn’t really matter anymore that the bag looked dirty. With that thing over his head he couldn’t see it anyway. The bigger part of the concern at the moment was the smell, or perhaps better said, the stench. The invention of low-phosphate, biodegradable detergent was clearly still on the to-do list in this particular time of Draamar development.
“As you can see,” the officer in charge started, “We didn’t go through the trouble of restricting your movements by tying you up.” He paused for a moment, in which time some sounds of metal against metal was audible. “It is not necessary,” he continued, “I can assure you I have enough armed guards to escort you to my king. If you attempt to escape, remove the bag, I promise you, you will find yourself in a smelly situation.” He sounded deadly serious and aggressive. Like he almost hoped they would try and give him an excuse to kill them, or at the very least mildly mutilate them. This was definitely not the guy that was in for games. Unless they involved ripping out antennas and other body parts out of innocent Andorians, Trills and Humans.
“We are already in something smelly,” Frek commented, wondering himself if he was referring to the bag or the situation they were in or both. Clearly their captors didn’t see the humour in it as the only reply was a blow to the back of head with something that felt rather unpleasant. “Take them out,” the officer snarled.
Frek felled someone jerking his arm was dragged out. Normally they would’ve been met by a soft breeze consisting out of fresh air. And perhaps they were now, but Frek tried to minimize breathing to much, and made sure he didn’t inhale through his nose. He was pretty sure this thing was rigged with all kind nasty germs. Both in big quantities of diversity as well as in numbers. If that thing would go through a transporter it would most likely cause a meltdown in the transporters bio-filters. “Is the wagon ready?” he heard someone ask. There was no immediate reply, so Frek reckoned it must have come in the form of a nod or a gesture. “Good,” the same voice said and gave him a push in the back. Frek stumbled but was able to remain on his feet, although he was feeling somewhat light headed. Must be the bag. Carefully he walked forward. Walking was perhaps a big word for it, shuffling seemed more in place. “This way.” Another jerk at his sleeve. Behind him he could here similar directions being given to his colleagues.
Ahead he could hear several noises he could not identify. A chain chinked, he knew that one. It was a strange snoring sound, or a very heavy breathing. “Stay put you stupid draap!” came a shouting from ahead. Draap, that could be a draught animal. After all they were being moved to the city with a wagon, and somehow Frek didn’t think the wagon was going to be pulled by the soldiers themselves. Then something hit him in the stomach. In a reflex he extended his hands and a moment later he could feel something wood-like under his hands. “You’ve reached the wagon,” his escort said a few seconds too late. “Yeah thanks, I noticed that,” Frek groaned. “Stop moaning and climb in,” the reply came. “Alright, alright,” Frek said back and reached out for the edge of the wagon and hoisted himself in it. It’s amazing how hard it is to perform most simple actions when you cannot see what you are doing. “Keep crawling until you reach the front,” he was ordered, “You are not the only one needing to get on.” He did what he was told. He couldn’t see how wide the wagon was, but it seemed to be about two meters long and about one and a half meter above the ground. It was an open one, he could feel over the edge. All that would to be preventing them from falling out was a half meter high plank that seemed to be fastened at the sides.
Something touched his leg. “Sorry.” It was Hannah’s voice. “Not a problem,” Frek replied while he positioned himself against the left board. There were more sounds of people shuffling around, careful and hesitant, trying to find themselves a spot. The Starfleet officers. It was followed by some more determent and heavier sounds and some clinging sounds of armour. The Draamar soldiers climbing in.
A couple of pounds against the side of the wagon indicated they were ready to leave. “Whoa!” Frek let out, trying to grab some something to hold onto. Whatever was pulling this thing, the acceleration was enormous. But there wasn’t much to support some grip. He felt himself slide across the floor, managing to get hold of something that felt bony and then crashed into the person sitting next to him. “Hey watch out!” That was Hannah, apparently she had been able to hold herself to something. “Mr Thelev, would you please stop pulling at my leg?” A voice with a weary tone in it. Captain Jira’s. “How do you know it’s me sir?” “Who else,” Jira sighed. “Will the prisoners please shut up?!” Clearly one of the guards.
To say that the ride had been comfortable would be same thing as saying that participation in a Klingon wedding ritual is completely without pain. It was hard to keep track of time not being able to see anything, but if he had to take a guess, Frek would say they had been travelling for little over an hour. It had been a shaky ride and the trampling of the animals feet pulling the wagon, the sounds of the wheels on the ground and the wind around their heads made all verbal communication useless. And if you can’t see, well, visual communication isn’t much use either. When they finally stopped, Frek was glad it was all over. He felt dizzy, standing on something that didn’t move, and the bag seemed to make it hard to breathe. When the bags were finally removed, they found themselves standing in a halfway. It was broad and high. The walls decorated with lush carpets and a series of portraits. A cat-like creature seems to be lying dead in a corner. The place was definitely not as clean as it should be. But that’s the middle-ages for you. Same on every planet. They universally suck. The little group stood waiting beneath a chandelier holding a few dozen candles or so, the chandelier, not the group. About four Draamar soldiers were standing behind them. They seemed relaxed and not afraid their prisoners would make a break for it. Either they were very inexperienced, very sure of themselves, or very stupid. But the best guess was that there was nowhere to run. Before they reached the end of the hall they would’ve been either recaptured or resemble a pin-cushion with arrows sticking out of their backs. “What are we waiting for?” Jira asked after they had been standing there for a couple of minutes. “You will be led to the king soon,” the leader of the little group said, “A lackey will come and get us.”
The lackey did come soon. One look at the guy and you just knew he would be leaving soon as well. The land of the living that is. Frek wasn’t entirely sure if they had cheese on this planet, but his face resembled the colour of a moulded one. Curiously the guy inspected the strangers from all angles. “They do look a bit awkward don’t they?” he finally observed. The guard nodded. “They say they’re from the south and here for the carnival.” The lackey looked up and raised an eyebrow. It looked like the eyebrow was in immediate danger to fall off. “The carnival?” he started to laugh hoarsely. The hoarse laughter fluently changed into a soft coughing that soon increased in intensity until he was coughing violently. The whole thing died away in a soft rattle. Apparently healthcare was something else, like detergent, that hadn’t been considered for invention on this planet yet.
The king’s throne was set on a platform in the middle or a circular chamber, surrounded by pillars. Light was falling in from high windows placed at even intervals all around the room. It was built in such fashion that most light would always fall on the throne in the middle, making its occupant always the centre of attention. “Kneel!” one of the guards said, “Kneel before our king!” When they hesitated they were forcefully pushed down. The king stood up and looked down on the prisoners from his high position. Frek quickly glance over his shoulder and noticed the guards had retreated into the shadows. The king himself was a middle-aged man of medium posture, but he seemed extremely fit and there was something in his eyes that showed he would stop at nothing to reach his goal. “I’m the king of the Draamar. King Sutef. It seems,” he started with a dark voice and pointed at them with his sceptre, “That some not unlike yourself are interfering with my campaign against the Kreld. Strangers. Outsiders that look different than the Shamin.” No-one replied, and it seemed like the king didn’t expect one either, if he wanted one, he would let it show. “I don’t know where you are from or what you are doing here, but I’m definitely not amused at all,” the king spoke a bit more forceful. A gleam entered his eyes. “From what I heard, your…tactics,” he spoke carefully, “Are different and very effective. The Kreld don’t deserve that.” “And you do?” Jira dared to ask. For a moment it looked like the king would lose his temper, but he refrained and instead smiled politely. “Yes,” he answered, “The Draamar are worthy of that.” He examined Jira with interest. “You dress differently,” he said noting Jira was the only one without uniform. “Are you the leader of this little group? Who’s in charge of your kind on Kreld territory?” “I’m in charge of this little group,” Jira said calmly. “And the others?” Jira didn’t answer but simply shrugged. The king smiled again. “You need some attention with that arm of yours,” he noted, “My surgeons can help you and put it in splints.” Sutef turned his back to the four Starfleet officers and placed a hand on the decorated back of his throne. “I want your help to defeat the Kreld, break the defences your kind have risen. If they are your people, let them end the fight against me, or better still, join me and crush the Kreld. Fight with me, and I’ll reward you. Oppose me and die.”
(12062/111036)
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Harrias Jira
Commodore
Registered: Apr 27, 2003 20:24:58 GMT
Posts: 2,347
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Post by Harrias Jira on Jul 30, 2006 17:10:06 GMT
Having your arm fixed by a mediaeval doctor was perhaps even more terrifying than having your arm broken by a mediaeval torturer; although on reflection Jira realised that he would prefer to experience neither. He looked at the king, the trill’s face betraying very little of his concern, but instead merely a reflective expression; or so he hoped. “And what guarantee will be made of our friends who fight with the Kreld, Your Highness?” “Let it be known that I am a merciful king. They shall not be made to suffer; their deaths shall be quick and painless where possible.” Jira winced. “Is there anything we can do to preserve their lives, o merciful King Sutef?” The kings face turned into one of fury. “Their lives are forfeit for the siding in the battle. Should you not fight with us too, your lives shall also be forfeit. That is why you shall fight.” He paused and gestured at the shadowy figures. “Guards, take them to their rooms. And send some surgeons to see this one.” As they were just about to step through the veiled door, he made one last request. “Oh, and find them some colours, they can not walk around the castle in those… garbs.”
The journey from the throne room to their new living arrangement was somewhat more comfortable than their last trip, though not by much. The guards only seemed to know one form of escort, and that was to constantly knock their ‘cargo’ about, shoving it in the right direction whenever one of them mistakenly took the wrong fork, or kept going when they should have turned off. In fact, all in all it didn’t rate that much higher than the wagon ride; the only advantage being that they didn’t have those stupid carrot sacks on their heads anymore.
When they eventually arrived at their destination; a row of huts that seemed a step down from tents; the guards motioned for them to go in. The Starfleet officers had to stoop low as they moved through the entrance. Harrias had been second or third in, manoeuvring carefully to avoid hurting his arm any further. As he raised his head inside the dingy hut, his first impression was significantly more positive than he had thought it would be. Although the low-ceilinged room was dark and dusty, it didn’t seem to be overly populated by rats or other such vermin, and it even had a small amount of furniture.
He planted himself on the floor, moving the straw about until it seemed comfortable, opting not to sit on one of the stools. He noticed that many of the crew followed suit, not entirely trusting the seats. Truth be told, they looked extremely sturdily made, but they also didn’t look terribly comfortable. He was about to speak when the curtaining that acted as a door was flung aside and a pair of children stepped in, their arms filled with clothing. They came no more than a step into the room, threw the cloths over the floor, and scampered back out again; obviously terrified.
Harrias raised his eyebrows expressively as he rolled his eyes. “It seems the linen service here isn’t as friendly as Muriel. Muriel was a well known member of the Nevada’s crew who spent most of her life delivering fresh uniforms to people. It was rumoured that she knew everyone’s rotas, and would time her visits so that she could have a chat. At the thought of her, Jira allowed himself a wry smile. She was probably over in the Kreld camp trying to work out how she could iron their robes clean as they spoke.
He sighed and turned his mind back to current events as he slowly fitted himself into a red and blue hatched gown, putting it on over his current clothing to avoid the coarse fabric rubbing his skin raw. He grimaced as he slid the sleeve over his bad arm, clenching his teeth tightly together. When he had managed to get it on properly, he walked to the entranceway and pushed the drape aside. “Guard! We will need some maps of the area if we are to help your king defeat these Kreld.”
When the guard had nodded and headed on his way to retrieve some maps, likely after checking with a superior that they were allowed them, the trill commodore ducked back into the shed. “Right, we should have some maps of the area soon enough. We will both try and work out how these Kreld can be beaten, although lets not give these people too much, we don’t want blood on our hands. At the same time, we will be trying to work out how we can escape from both factions assuming we manage to contact the other group. I don’t know how long we have until we are expected to be out there, and I don’t know what will happen when we are. But if we can plan well now, things are more likely to play out for us later.”
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fthelev
Guest
Registered: Apr 19, 2024 4:10:45 GMT
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Post by fthelev on Jul 31, 2006 20:40:04 GMT
The guard returned about an hour later with the requested maps of the area. By that time twilight had set in again and soon it started to go dark. In the oil lamp lit hut the officers, now all dressed in local Draamar colours, stood gathered around the crude table that was placed in the middle. Carefully selecting where to place his hands Frek put some weight on the table and leant over the maps. Simply putting your hands on that table would probably mean you would end up pulling out splinters out of them for the rest of the night. “What do you think?” Jira asked. Frek assumed he was talking about the maps, not their new attire. “Simple and crude,” he said with shrug, “Some parts seem rather out of proportion. As if it was all made by judgment, not by measurements.”
Actually, that was true for their recently acquired clothing as well. Fabric softener was clearly not one of those luxury things these people had in their lives yet. Frek sincerely he hoped they would have soon. This stuff itched like hell. Frek squeezed his eyes shut and opened them again. For some reason he had trouble focussing on the maps every now and again and his breathing appeared to be heavier as well. He shook it all off and tried to return his attention to the maps. He pointed at a certain point on it. “I think this is the lake we crashed in sir,” he said, “You can see the mountain ranges and the forest, here and…here.” Jira nodded in agreement. “And here he’s the hill we had our unfortunate meeting on that led to this situation.”
Little by little they started to piece things together, from the geographical futures they had seen to the things they gathered along the way. There were several place names on the map, but it was hard to say to which side they belonged to. No fixed borders were drawn. Some vague lines were visible, but they looked as they had been redrawn and erased. A moving front line. And not moving in favour of the Kreld. From what they gathered the camp they encountered was an outpost, an incursion into Kreld territory. Hannah tapped on the map with a finger. “Here, this must be the city the Draamar have reported to have seen the ‘strangers’.” She looked up from the map. “Our crew,” she said. In a straight line the city she indicated wasn’t even that far away from their crash site. True, with the mountains in the way, effectively forming a natural defence against incursions from that site it was still a long walk. Not one that you would like to take on a romantic stroll. If the scale of this thing was something to go by all the escape pods landed relatively close to each other. Perhaps only two or three hundred kilometres.
Next morning Frek woke up uneasy. Not only did he had the feeling he was sharing his bed with a few million microscopic occupants of the less delightful kind, his night’s rest hadn’t something to write home about either. Imagine yourself having to camp out in a haunted mansion in the most ghastly weather. Waiting for the ghouls to come and put a stick, not per se designed for that specific function, in your nose with the intention to liquefy your brain and drink it as the clock strikes midnight. In other words, he didn’t sleep well. Everything seemed to hurt and his head felt heavy. For a minute every seemed to spin. Like when you are in one of those rides on a fun fair, or really drunk. Or both.
His fellow roommates already seemed to be up. A big bucket of water was placed on a chair in a corner, the floor somewhat wet around it. He could only assume it was there so they could freshen up a bit. The maps on the centre table were shoved aside and a bowl with what looked like local fruit and bread appealing lurked from its newfound location. Okay, perhaps it only lurked the others. Frek stumbled straight past it and went for the improvised sink and while Jira sunk his teeth in a pear like creation Frek sunk his head in the water. It didn’t do much good in cooling him down. “It’s about time you got up,” Hannah commented, a teasing ring in her voice, “Thought you would go for a bit of a lie-in today.” Avidly she took a bite out of one the fruits. Some of the juice dripped down her chin. She wiped it off with the back of her hand and held the piece of fruit up. “It’s surprisingly good,” she advertised with a mouth full. Frek shook his head. “No thank you,” he groaned, “Not really hungry.” One bite out of one of those things and it would be more than likely that whatever he still had in his stomach would come out with the arguably a higher speed it originally went down. Basically not a good idea to try out at the moment. Hannah shrugged and didn’t go into it. Even if she wanted she wouldn’t have had the chance. The door opened with out a knock and a guard, unfamiliar to Frek, came in. It seemed like the others had met him before. Maybe he was the one who brought breakfast while he was still in bed; he could see a sign of recognition in their eyes as he came in.
“My lord, the King wished to see you,” he said. There as a pitiful look in his eyes while he said that and curiously observed the strangers. They could tell him another hundred times they had come from far, but something told him he would not encounter many like these if would travel south. “We’re still eating,” Jira said, gesturing and the still well filled bowl with his good arm. The man lifted his palms to ceiling. “Not my problem,” he answered, “The King was rather specific, and I do reckon it’s best not to keep him waiting.” He opened the door and turned to them. “Not if you want to keep yourself in one piece.” “He’s a bit of impatient man, eh?” Al’Azif asked. The guard grimaced. “To say the least,” he assured them, “He doesn’t like to get upset. When he does, he can do very upsetting things to others.” Jira looked around the room and grabbed another piece of fruit for on the road. “Guess it’s best to follow you then,” he said, “Show us the way mister, eh…?” The guard smiled. “Knurd, my name is Knurd.”
Though it was a short walk from their humble hut to the king’s court they learned a lot from the guard the guided them there. “This was once a Kreld city,” he told them. There was a trace of pride in his voice as he started to point out some distinct features in Kreld architecture and the differences with the more crude and practical Draamar way of building and designing things. “What happened,” Frek asked while dawdling along. Knurd didn’t need much encouraging. “They came when my grandfather was still a young man,” he started to tell. “They weren’t many, but fierce warriors, supreme on the battlefield.” He shook his head, “Not so the Kreld. Our army was small, not well trained and no match for them.” “So why are you in the Draamar legion?” Hannah asked a bit surprised, clearly this man still had a fondness for his heritage. Knurd smiled sadly. “It’s not like we have a choice,” he said, “Like I said, the Draamar are originally not with many. They needed to expand their army. It’s not like we have much choice, we all have to do a five year stint and still, it’s one of the most well paid jobs around and I need to support my family.” “Seems like in two generations the Draamar haven’t expanded much,” Jira wondered. “Because we are so close to Kreld territory?” Knurd smiled. Jira nodded. “Yeah.” They were now almost near the palace. They could already see the dome crawling into view as they moved on from behind a building that was blocking its view. “The earlier expeditions were sent east and with success,” he explained and pointed north, “You must have seen the mountains…” He paused for a second and when they all nodded he continued; “It forms a natural defence line. With them in the south and the river protecting them from the east, it’s Ferad’s last big stronghold. And it’s not going for them. I heard he lost his eldest son in the last few days.” “Ferad is the Kreld leader?” Hannah inquired. Knurd nodded as the walked the last stretch to their destination. “I also heard,” he said softly, “He has taken a turn for the luck, apparently some strangers…” He gestured towards them with his head. “…Have reinforced his positions. Apparently they use completely unheard of tactics and strategies…” “Are there many like you Knurd?” Jira asked, this was interesting information. He shrugged. “Enough,” and then more suspiciously, “Why?” Jira thought about that. “The Draamar have trained your people to fight for them,” he said slowly, “Why not use that knowledge to oppose them?” “Because of the repercussions it would have,” Knurd said, “Their elite core is still Draamar and they’ll make sure we don’t go astray.” “We are here,” he said suddenly ending the conversation.
King Sutef was not pleased, not pleased at all to say the least. His face was red with anger and it would be only a question of time before steam would be coming out of his ears, wouldn’t it for the fact still hadn’t been invented yet on this planet. “The attack,” he started, hoarse with anger, “The attack yesterday afternoon that should’ve brought the Kreld down, surrender them to my mercy. The final attack that would have meant victory to the glorious Draamar. All marred!” He was heaving with fury. “And all…” he pointed at them with his sceptre, “Because of your kind!” Violently he sat himself down in his throne. “You’d better have something for me,” he said. Though his voice was quiet it betrayed pure aggression and hate. The bird that had brought him the bad news lay dead at his feet. Frek wondered if yesterdays dead cat had been a messenger as well, while Jira thought it would be best not to upset the royal ruler. “We have been working hard sire,” he said hoping to sound humble enough not to be killed instantly, “But we can’t do much without more information.” King Sutef was half getting up again. “More information?” he asked ominous. “About the troop positions and reports of the fighting,” Jira elucidated, “How they fight. We need that to come up with a counter strategy.” He hoped he would find an alternative solution before it came to the fighting. “Hmm,” the king said, sitting down once again, “I’ll see that you get…” Suddenly he was on his feet again. “What’s the matter with him,” he asked gesturing at Frek. The Andorian was swaying on his feet. He could feel his focus slipping away and it was as if an invisible hand was grabbing him by throat and putting a great pressure on his chest. Slowly he sank to the floor. “Some water!” Hannah shouted and kneeled down next to Captain Jira. The water came surprisingly fast. They really must want their help. “Mr Thelev, Frek,” Jira asked as he splashed some water in his face, “What’s wrong?” Frek slightly moved an antenna and opened his eyes, the seemed lustreless. “I’m feeling a bit off sir,” he said quietly, his voice barely a whisper. He had tried as long as he could, but his strength was all burned up. He’d hardly had a day’s rest since being recovered from Tammeron and crashing on this world. It was a bit the same a counsellor saying, ‘I can feel you are sad,’ when someone walks into his or hers office weeping loudly. Everyone could see Frek was not at his best at this particular moment of time. “Frek, we can see you are a bit off,” Jira said patiently, “What’s wrong?” “Difficulty breathing…pain in the chest,” Frek whispered and grasped for some air, “Can’t keep focus and it’s too warm in here…Where’s Melain? Sickbay…”
The King had stepped closer and overheard the symptoms. “I’ve seen this before,” Sutef said, “We have no cure for it.” He turned around and walked back to his throne. “He’ll be dead within the week,” he said uninterestingly, “Nothing you can do. What you can do is keeping yourselves alive.”
(14190/113164)
OOC: Right, Frek's out for a while till I get back from vacation. Also put in some Kreld/Draamar history, you can always use that in someway.
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Deleted
Registered: Apr 19, 2024 4:10:45 GMT
Posts: 0
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Post by Deleted on Aug 1, 2006 3:48:44 GMT
The fighting was constant and bloody. At times it seemed as though they’d managed to get a foothold, that the enemy might have given up. Then in a matter of moments the tide would turn and they’d lose a chunk of the wall, only to regain it minutes later. Mutterings of thanks to the gods for sending the strangers where heard almost constantly. When Melain asked about them she was told that the other Nevada crewmembers had set up defenc tactics the Kreld had never dreamed of and without them, the city would have been destroyed within an hour. Melain had tried at first to keep track of the rest of her team, it became a futile effort. All she could do was check the wounded in the square as she dropped off the wounded to see if she spotted any of them. She saw one marine, it looked as though a broadsword had severed his arm right off. Healers where struggling to stop the flow of blood, Melain stopped to help, but Ophila pushed her back to the front lines. The next time Melain delivered a wounded man to the square the marine was nowhere to be seen and the healers where busying themselves with someone else.
They had made countless trips back and forth between the fighting and the square. Their efforts yielded few results, they where only capable of taking a few wounded at a time, and often by the time they laid the injured warrior on a bed he had died of his injuries. Melain wanted to collapse from exhaustion, but every time she went to sit down she was forced back to her feet. They had no time to rest, they where forced to perform quick triage on the field, Melain was given one second to decide if a man was to be taken to the Healers or left to die where he fell.
“How long have we been fighting?” she asked Ophila as soon as she was given a chance to take a sip of water from one of the children carrying around sloshing buckets. She was so thirsty she did not bother being concerned about the lead.
“at least a day” Ophila replied. “Time speeds up, let’s go” Melain dropped her cup back into the bucket and followed the chief healer back to the front lines.
“Doctor!” a voice called out. Melain stopped, The Krield called out for healer, only one of the Nevada crew would call for a doctor. “Doctor Lorre, please.”
“Keep going.” Melain urged Ophila, who gave her a stare meant to say: we have better things to do then find one wounded among a hundred. Melain followed the call and saw a strip of Star Fleet uniform amide a sea of Krield purple and yellow. She pushed away the bodies of two dead soldiers.
“I... I can’t breath.” It was Nathan Wright, the young engineer who had given Melain cheek when they’d arrived on the surface. “This is nothing like a holonovel.” His face was caked in blood courtesy of a large gash on his forehead. At his side a sword lay, it was dripping with blood. Melain pushed away the remaining bodies to get a better look at him. The armour he had been supplied with was bent out of shape, as if something very heavy had crashed into him. The metal plates meant to protect him where pushing inwards, crushing him, killing him. “I need to take off your armour.” Melain said, he nodded slowly. Melain struggled to find the leather ties that held the metal together, her hands shook a he tried to untie them, they slippery with blood. She gave up and grabbed an abondoned blade to cut the laces. At last she was able to pull the metal away and tossed it on the ground beside them.
Ahhahh, that hurts more.” Nathan gasped. “Put it back.” The metal had been the only thing keeping Nathan’s stomach in one piece. Although the force of the blow had driven the metal into Nathan’s torso, the bent metal had kept the wound from opening up and internal organs from spilling out.
Melain hasty tried to seal the wound with her hand, rummaging through her salve bag with the other. She pulled out roll after roll f bandages and plunged them by her drowning hand, they quickly soaked and became red. Still shaking she tore off pieces of her own clothes to join the blood soaked rags. She would give anything for a dermal regenerator and a hypospray of Rexaline. At last it seemed as though the piles of bandages where doing their job. She fastened them in place and looked around for someone to help her carry Nathan to the square. No one fit for the job was in sight. Either they where caught up in battle, dying or dead. Melain bent down, and hoisted Nathan to his feet and slung him over her shoulder. Fortunately he was a small man, and the drink Ophila had given Melain had not yet worn out. Melain, half carrying and half dragging Nathan, stumbled over dead bodies, abandoned weapons and debris towards the square. Her panting now joined Nathan's, and it seemed that with each step she took the square was further away.
“BREACH! They breached the main gate!” Someone yelled. “The wall, they’ve taken the first wall!” Melain struggled onwards. “Archers, raise shields, there’s Archer’s on the wall!” The last call was followed by a host of twangs, thuds and cries of pain. Melain struggled onwards. From the walls above her soldiers fell, arrows protruding from their chests. A horrible pain erupted from Melain’s revealed shoulder, She tumbled, inadvertently thrusting Nathan forward. He landed with a sickening thud a few feet away. Melain tried to remain standing, but her feet gave out and she landed with a splash in the mud. Spluttering she pulled herself up, Nathan was horribly pale, his face was twisted into a look of shock. Melain instinctively reached back to find the source of her pain, her hands grasped an arrow shaft deeply impaled in her shoulder blade. She knew better then to pull and so with a sigh of resignation she let herself slid back into the mud, her vision settling on Nathan’s vacant, emotionless, dead eyes. As her vision slid and her senses dulled she felt hands grab her, and an unintelligible voice speaking.
(O.O.C And that takes care of Melain for my LOA, she’s badly wounded and the healer’s won’t be able to do much, but once rescued the ship CMO will look after her. )
(14106/86222)
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davidramsey
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Registered: Apr 19, 2024 4:10:45 GMT
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Post by davidramsey on Aug 1, 2006 7:49:30 GMT
David had never been a warrior, he knew how to fight, but unfortunately his previous training had revolved around a phaser. Now he had an oddly balanced blade that he simply wasn't sure how to use and if anything he knew that carrying a weapon you don't know how to use was worse than being unarmed. He had the blade at his side as he ran about behind the wall carrying the mortar bricks in a rather futile attempt to refortify the portion of the wall the Kreld had reclaimed for the tenth time in the last five hours. He was starting to think it was a silly endeavor, but he didn't have any bright ideas so he wasn't in a position to complain.
One of the Kreld archers fell at his feet and he nearly dropped his brick. The man wrapped his arm around David's leg and forced him to look down.
"What?!" he said as he threw the brick aside to see the fallen archer's face. He was annoyed until he saw the face, it was nearly vacant and deathly pale. The man had been shot through multiple times and was obviously in a world of pain.
"Please take ... take my bow. The ... the ... the ramparts can't be taken. Please, take my bow and get up there ... take my pl-" he said desperately pushing his long bow toward David's now empty hands, "Please ... "
David leaned down and took the bow, "Come on, I'll take you to the h-"
But as he grabbed the man to carry he stopped talking. He was dead.
David looked at the bow and grabbed the dead man's nearly full quiver. He'd had some archery lessons when he was a little boy, but nothing like this. However, he looked up and saw the Draamar foot soldiers clambering over the ramparts, it was now or never.
Quickly he mounted the crumbling stairs that led up to the ramparts and stopped short, pulled an arrow from the quiver and took a good hold of the bow. He fitted the arrow on the string and pulled it back, testing the feel of the thing. He crept up the three remaining stairs with the arrow ready to fly. He spotted a foot soldier turned away from the city holding a white rope, presumably for his mates to climb the wall. David pulled the arrow back and prepared to fire when suddenly a thought popped into his head. He was about to probably injure or kill another person. He halted the action and swallowed hard ... this was no hologram, this was certainly no training mission ... this was the real thing. Real pain, real agony, real death and he started to sweat. He was in a perfect position to shoot the man in the back and that also posed a moral question within his already quarreling conscience. He watched the man and noticed that the rope was wiggling and writhing and it suddenly occurred to him that many, many, many more soldiers were coming up that rope and all the countless other ropes along the whole wall. If they managed to get up there they would have the advantage and the city would fall and he and his crew mates would be reliant upon the mercy of a culture that was not well known for their generosity. It was plain and simple ... kill or be killed ... morals only work when both sides have them and at this point he only knew of one side that did.
He pulled back the arrow and let fly. He was utterly surprised to see it fly straight ... past the soldier and off into the distance. The soldier turned and saw David and in one fluid motion he looped the rope around a short ornamental spire and came at him with his blade drawn. David tried to get another arrow out and ready, but the soldier closed too quickly and he was forced to dodge a fierce thrust and nearly fell from the stairs. Lunging from a higher level threw the soldier off balance and gave David the chance he needed to pull his own blade. He parried the next thrust neatly as the soldier rushed up at him from below and then he tripped on the step behind him and fell back unto the steps. With his back pressed against the up bound steps he brought his legs into the engagement and knocked the man's sword from his hand. As the sword clattered down the stairs, the Draamar soldier drew his dagger and came at him again, this time, David dodged to the side and brought his blade up at just the right angle. The man seemed to collapse on top of him and when he shoved the man off he found the reason why, he'd impaled him with his sword.
Not wanting to really think too much about what had just happened, David jumped to his feet and ran toward the rope, he looked down and saw nearly seven soldiers and archers on the rope. They looked up at him and he looked down on them ... he cut the rope and didn't watch to see the result.
After a hail of arrows sullied past his head, he settled to a crouch and made his way along the wall, cutting ropes and pushing back ladder's until he came to a part of the wall that was crowded with enemy archers. He stayed hidden behind a large outcropping of stone and prepared his ranged weapon with care, he'd only get one real shot at this ... he was a definite amateur and these were professionals, all he had was the element of surprise. He notched the arrow and aimed over the stone with considerable care.
"Just a little further to the left ... now that one to the right ... back, back ... aye," he said to himself with one eye closed as he concentrated totally on what he was doing.
He fired and was more than a little happy to see six archers fall back with bloody hands and broken bows. He'd have to think about the odds on that one later, he'd only been aiming for the hands of two or three archers with well exposed left hands, but apparently luck was on his side. He'd even broken several of other bows as well; however, several of the archers were now gunning for him and he had to stay neatly tucked back behind the stone cover to avoid the ten to fifteen arrows that came zooming his way. After several minutes the arrows stopped flying and David decided to see just how much attention they were giving him. He ripped a bit of his uniform off and wrapped it around an arrow shaft and raised it slowly over his head and into the open.
He felt a little breeze move the arrow slightly and he pulled the arrow back down ... along with five well placed arrows ... 'hmmm,' he thought to himself, 'a three inch bundle of fabric with five arrows right through. I think I'll stay down for a bit ... with this little food for thought.'
Despite the arrow-shaft-turned-pin-cushion phenomenon, David knew he couldn't just sit there and let the archers have full reign over the courtyard. He starting looking for any other options, he settled back and looked around. There just happened to be a large hole in the wall structure. He crept back along the wall and peeked through the hole, totally expecting to get an arrow through the skull as a reward for the attempt. However, he saw that it was a part of the ornamental outer structure. There was a space between the outer wall and the inner wall of the rampart and thick wooden beams placed a fair distance apart leading around the outside of the wall. He leaned out over a particular beam and saw the ground more than fifty feet below.
Suddenly, he was highly afraid of heights he thumbed up and down on the beam and decided it was steady enough for him ... after all, if it could hold up all that stone surely it could hold him up as well. He waddled up and onto the first beam and stretched out to grab the next one ... it was slow going and he nearly fell several times. Eventually he came to another break in the inner wall and found himself behind the cadre of archers. He moved to the last beam and again considered his options. He tentatively poked his head out and found that no one was paying any attention to him, this was a good thing.
He sidled out from the hole and knelt behind the line. He was just able to see over the ledge and the scattered carnage that lay about the courtyard was deplorable. However, one person stuck out from the crowd, a lone healer was tending to one of the Starfleet wounded. She'd already been struck in the back and there were two more archers gunning for her position.
"No!" David said as he jumped up from behind them and pushed them over the edge. The remaining ten archers turned on him, but he still had the upper hand, he was too close for them to nail him and most of them didn't have the time to draw their blades. David's fists and feet moved much faster than he thought they could. He was not a really talented martial artist ... in fact, his skill barely registered on most scales. His father had often joked that his son fought like the legendary Jackie Chan ... he'd almost always managed to beat the holy hell out of his opponents even though he seemed to have no idea how he'd done it.
The archer on the far end managed to get a shot off before David closed on him. It apparently sliced its way into his bicep, but he didn't stop, if he stopped and allowed the archer to reload he'd be dead. He charged on and, with his good arm, landed the hardest punch he'd ever thrown square on the frightened enemy's jaw. The rampart was clear and he turned and yelled down to the Dashar.
"Get some archers and soldiers up here or you're gonna be sorry," he shouted at the blood stained man that was shouting desperate orders, "I am serious Dashar! They'll be back up here soon!"
"Alright, alright, minstrel ... they are coming to you know!" he yelled back, "But I don't have a whole troop to send you!"
"I'll take what I can get," David replied, turning his attention to the arrow shaft sticking out of his arm. It wasn't a bad wound, and he was able to pull the arrow head out cleanly, it was only wedged just under his skin. It stung, but wasn't a death blow. He ripped off a part of his clothing and wrapped it up quickly as his seven or eight archers and well worn troopers found their way to him.
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hannah
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Registered: Apr 19, 2024 4:10:45 GMT
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Post by hannah on Aug 3, 2006 12:00:55 GMT
Frek feel backwards and Hannah and the other officer gripped him and guided him towards the floor. Frek was a very pale blue and Hannah could feel the heat radiating of him, he clearly had a fever.
“Have got no experimental medicines, herbs, that we could try,” Hannah said desperately. She was very worried about Frek.
“No, but we could stop his suffering, it can be rather painful at the end,” the King offered gesturing to one of his guards.
“No, we will look after him,” Hannah insisted. The king turned his attention back to Jira.
“I will assign a soldier to provide any information you need, but I want a strategy by sunset or you all will die,” the King said with a creepy smile. He motioned to his officers to take them back to there room.
Hannah grabbed one of Frek’s arms and Jira clutched the other halting him over their shoulders and dragging him out of the throne room and down the hall. Frek seemed to semi-conscious mumbled nonsense as they carried him back to their room.
When they arrived back at the room, they lifted Frek onto the bed. Hannah ripped abit of cloth of one of their uniform while lay in the corner of the room. She dipped it in the pot of water that had been brought to them that morning and placed it on Frek’s head to try and cool him down.
“He needs to be taken to commander Lorre and one of the other doctors,” Hannah commented. Hannah wasn’t a doctor and only had basic survival and first aid training from the academy.
Before the other officers could say anything Knurd walked in.
“I have sent by the king to give you any information you need to come up with a strategy,” he said.
“Could you show us your troop positions?” Jira asked pointing towards the map.
“The largest in campment of troops is here,” Knurd said pointing to the camp over the hill that they had been captured at the previous day.
“There are also three smaller camps here, here and here,” he said pointing to three points on the map all on this side of the city.
“So there are no encampments on this side,” Al’Azif asked.
“No, there are no Klerd cities left on that side of the city,” Knurd responded.
“What kind of defences does this city and the Klerd city have?” Hannah asked.
“Both cities are surrounded by a large wall manned by archers and there are troops in both cities walls, this city also has canons mounted on parts of the wall,” Knurd informed them.
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fthelev
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Registered: Apr 19, 2024 4:10:45 GMT
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Post by fthelev on Aug 23, 2006 14:35:17 GMT
There was something pressing on his head. This couldn’t be the giant again; trying to crush his head, could it? It felt cold, or warm. It was hard to say. The one moment everything could be perfectly clear, to completely fade out of the next. Whether it was light or dark, day or night, noisy or quiet, he wouldn’t know. Everything was a twisted blur, in which it was hard to focus and pain was everything. Colours could be bright and vivid and grow dim in a fraction of seconds. How long had he been here? An hour, a day, or perhaps a week? Could it be even longer than that? Time had lost all meaning. For all he knew, it could have been ages. It felt like an eternity. It was a delirious cycle that usually ended when everything went dark again. It was one hell of a trip, as if falling through a den where there is no air to breathe, and the pressure is always trying to make your body crunch with a, well, crunching sound. It was a bad trip. Just like the one they had been on. The ship gone, crew scattered across an area who knows how big and them captive, forced to aid in a medieval alien conflict. A conflict in which at least another part of the Nevada crew was involved as well, the trouble being they were in opposite camps. Frek turned uneasily on the bed they had put him on. It was hard to say if he was awake, asleep or something in between. But the fact he wasn’t doing well was clear to everyone. Even to himself at those rare moments he could actually get his thoughts together, but most of the time he was just fighting against the illness that had taken control of his body and which took most of his strength. It left no room for other things to ponder about. And even so, it looked and felt like he was losing the battle.
Painfully he took in a gust of air. The lungful of air could have been a treat, hadn’t it been that the air wasn’t exactly of the quality you would expect in beautiful chalet in crystal clear mountain air. But hey, that’s the middle ages for you. With an uneasy movement Frek tried to turn over a bit. Towards the hazy shapes, silhouettes contrasted against the light falling in through one of the open windows. The curtains, not entirely clean ones, swayed on the breeze that came in. The breeze wasn’t entirely clean as well. Perhaps they could call for the Captain ashore so he could go home. They were talking, or perhaps arguing. What were they saying? It seemed an indistinct murmur, occasionally rising in pitch and volume.
“…and I tell you now,” the voice that had spoken the words was aggressive to say the least. “My lord the King wants to start the offensive in the morrow. He wants a working plan before nightfall.” Another voice mixed in. “They are doing the best they can Dessip,” this voice sounding somewhat pleading. “They are unfamiliar with our weaponry, geography and the have their sick antenna-ed friend to look after.” “Be careful where you place your loyalty Knurd,” Dessip said sharp, warningly, “It could be dangerous choosing the wrong friends.” There was no reply from Knurd. He had taken the hint, and knew he shouldn’t push to far. It was not only his safety, but also that of his family. A soothing voice interfered. “No need to get excited,” the voice belonging to Captain Jira said, “He has been extremely helpful, your King should thank him.” “Thank him? For helping you or him[i/].” The contempt was clearly noticeable in his voice. “You had several days to come up with something and all the tactical data he reckons you can be trusted with.” Dessip took a deep breath as if he had enough of the whole thing and marked the end of the discussion. “You have till nightfall,” he warned, “And if some objects are to your distraction…” A pause. “…then they will be removed. Permanently.”
A door was slammed and the silence continued. But it was as if the words echoed in the room. For Frek it was some sort of continual static noise that vibrated in the room. He had heard the words, but had failed to understand them. For all he was concerned it could have been Chinese. And the only Chinese he knew was ‘Foe Yong Hai with Bami Pangang’. He just felt dead tired, and didn’t notice the looks of the others. “What are we going to do?” First Officer Hannah Stevenson asked softly, “We can’t help the Draamar to quell the Kreld.” “We can hardly tell Sutef to stuff it,” Al’Azif said with his characteristic accent. The all knew he was right and for a moment they knew nothing better to do than stand there in silence. “If the city is defended by Starfleet troops,” Jira finally broke the silence, “We have a pretty good idea how they would position their forces.” Hannah raised a brow. “You want to go on with this?” “Look at it this way,” Jira said calmly, “If we don’t, we are dead before the morning comes, and the attack will go on eventually. Even reinforced with remnants of the Nevada crew and incorporating modern tactics they will prevail eventually. Only at a higher cost. For both sides.” He looked up to his executive officer, his hands planted on the chart table. Hannah stared at the table and wondered what would happen if she applied some additional force on it, but then decided to abandon the experiment. “We are damned if we do, and damned if we don’t,” she finally said. All the time Knurd had been standing in a dark corner, saying nothing, but listening to every word that was uttered. He could see the dilemma the Starfleet officers were in. Somehow he liked them and felt certain sympathy for them. And same as them, he didn’t like the idea of continuous Draamar supremacy. He walked out of the shadows slowly. “You asked me before if there are others like me,” he asked equally slowly. Jira stared at the native. “Yes I did,” he said straightening up, “Where are you getting at Knurd?” “There is an underground movement,” he told them, his voice was low and conspiring. And that was exactly what they were doing. “How many and where?” Jira wanted to know. “Underground, not sure of numbers.” Jira frowned; perhaps he hadn’t been completely clear. “Yes I know it’s an underground movement, but where are they?” he repeated. Knurd looked as if was talking to someone with a brain malfunction. “Underground,” he said clear and articulate. “Most are dissidents hiding from the authorities and there is some support in the army as well.” He looked around the circle of his fellow conspirators. “Look,” he started, “We can’t mount a revolution on our own. We don’t have the force or people. But if this battle is planned right we can take advantage of that. During the fight the city will be almost devoid of soldiers. The underground movement should be strong enough to take over control.” Jira could see what he was getting at. “You want us to sabotage the offensive strategies?” Knurd nodded excitingly. “Place the regiments in which we have most support in the rear. In mid battle we can revolt and attack the genuine Draamar forces from behind while your people and the Kreld engage them front on.” “If we can let our people know where the weak spots are,” Hannah said hesitantly, “It could change the tide.” “Will you help me?” Knurd asked a hopeful glimmer in his eyes.
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fthelev
Guest
Registered: Apr 19, 2024 4:10:45 GMT
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Post by fthelev on Aug 23, 2006 14:35:49 GMT
STARBASE 11, ‘CONQUEROR’
With a sigh of despair Lieutenant Commander Yuri Stroganoff stared at message on the PADD lying on the desk in front of him. It was not the message itself the invoked that reaction. It was not particularly strange or unusual. It was a request. It was actually a perfectly normal request. No, the problem lied in whom it was from and who it was for. Captain Samskeyti Sigurson had always been a bit impatient and sometimes blunt towards the people in his direct environment. But in the last few months his temper and impatience had drastically increased and occasional violent tendencies were not uncommon. Whether this was due to his recent ‘promotion’ as head of the scientific logistics department on Starbase Conqueror, he hated scientist, or his nerve wrecking little twin daughters was a subject that was keenly speculated upon in the hallways. Reluctantly Yuri Stroganoff pushed his chair away from his desk, picked the communiqué and headed towards the office of his superior officer. He had served with Sigurson before, he was younger then and unmarried, on a project researching efficiency of Starfleet transportation. Something he had obviously liked, since he was a lot calmer in those days. Apparently someone hadn’t liked him very much and promoted him to his current station. Remarkably enough Sigurson had proved to be quite good in it. He heard Sigurson’s office before he could see it. There was a muttered curse and the sound of something shattering. Yuri sighed again, put all his courage together and ringed the chime. “What!” the answer was loud, though not loud enough yet to meet the criteria to be a scream or a yell. The Lieutenant Commander took it as an invitation to enter the office. The doors slit open and he stepped in to find Captain Samskeyti Sigurson hovering over his seat and bending over his desk. On the opposite end a dark spot on the wall indicated the location where another innocent coffee mug died bravely. “Oh it’s you,” Captain Sigurson said calming down a little and plunged back into his chair, “Come in Yuri, you wouldn’t believe what those, those…idiots…” Clearly he was getting excited again, or perhaps more precisely frustrated. He was about to finish his sentence, or better, his tyranny when he was interrupted by the intercom. “Can I never have some peace,” he moaned as he answered the call. “And what the hell do you want?” The voice on the other side came over hesitantly. Civilian calls were always routed through a comm centre. “Well…eh, sir. It’s your wife, she says your…” A frustrated expression appeared on Sigurson’s face with a flare of despair as he jumped up, his face turning red. “Tell her I’m dead will you!” he screamed through the device and slammed the control. It was not very likely the control would ever control something again. He looked at the Commander still standing in front of his desk, him not really knowing where to look. Then suddenly he realised what he had done, and tried to correct his error. “Wait! No, patch her through!” But by then it was really too late, the device was equally deceased as the coffee mug. “I’ll get through to her later with my combadge,” he muttered. “What’s that Yuri?” he asked moodily indicating the PADD in the officer’s hand. “Something I can use to safe myself? It’s gonna be hell when I get home. I’m sure she’ll make me spend the rest of my life in celibacy.” Yuri wisely refrained from commenting on that. After all, this might not be that a bad idea. Another twin and the station population wouldn’t survive. “No,” he said reluctantly, “It’s from the anthropologist society.” Sigurson started to get red again. For some reason he hated anthropologists most of all scientist. “Calm down Sam, take a seat,” Yuri tried, they had been on first name basis for a long time. Apart from his outbursts they could get along pretty well. “What do those monkey watchers want this time?” he groaned. “Those are zoologists.” “Whatever…” “They want to utilize a science vessel to get to O’Ryan’s system,” Yuri said carefully. Again Sigurson half rose from his chair. “Again!” he yelled, “This is the tenth time in as many days! What the hell for this time? Did the forget one of their team members, again?” It was slight exaggeration but perhaps best not confront him with that. “They lost contact with their surveillance satellites,” Yuri said going over the request quickly, “They want transport on a science vessel to investigate.” Sigurson shrugged so what, “Sometimes satellites malfunction,” he said, “Who cares, let them wait until it’s their turn again to use the facilities.” Yuri looked up. “It’s not just the one,” he elucidated, “They all gave out. Something happened there.” “Look,” he said, “I think we should grant the request and send a ship.” Sigurson breathed out slowly and deliberate. “Alright, who you have in mind?” Yuri Stroganoff slit the PADD over to his superior. “Captain Takk of the Rutherford can fit it into his schedule. You only have to authorize it.” Captain Samskeyti Sigurson sighed. “Alright, here’s my authorization. Give ‘em what they want.” And as Yuri made his way to the door. “And make sure they don’t bother me again! Ever!”
[16379/115353]
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