Star Trek: Theurgy

[ Hirek tr’Aimne | Personal Quarters | Deck 17 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @everyone interested in a bit of chaos

Cool to the touch and light in weight, the combadge he’d been given still looked more like a toy than something of use. Twisting it first this way and then that, the glint of the overhead lights bounced off the surface as Hirek continued to peer at the tangible evidence of his present circumstances. In just over a week, Hirek had veered so far off course from what he’d expected of his life that some mornings he still woke up confused. Gasping in the darkness—a darkness no longer thick with First City humidity, smelling of Klingon filth and Romulan fear—it would take a reassuring conversation with Thea to remind Hirek of just how much had changed. While he found her fascinating and indeed referred to her with gender, Hirek had yet to adjust fully to the ship’s computer system, though he looked forward to meeting her avatar.

With Thea’s guidance, Hirek had explored much of the ship in the days after he’d been officially welcomed aboard—though “welcomed” was a loose term. Cordial was also too warm a word to describe his reception. He did not take it personally, especially not since his introduction to a select few was on the coattails of having aided in the kidnapping of their crewmate. Hirek smirked as he remembered a fellow Romulan, now his supposed “crewmate” who would likely enjoy tenderizing his flesh for dinner. Oh, yes, he looked forward to meeting her again. And any others open to sharing a conversation with one of "those" Romulans. He snorted in morbid amusement.

Setting aside the badge for now, Hirek finished readying himself for his excursion to the D’Takka seashore—a rare treat to see more of Qo’Nos without the other Romulan agents weighing him down. His thoughts began tracking once more over the events leading to his placement on the ship. His work for Starfleet intelligence over the years, his placement on Qo’Nos at the very time Theurgy arrived and revealed the Infested, and then the fateful meeting with Enyd Madsen, the child of the Starfleet operatives who’d both cursed him into this existence and saved his life. It was uncertain how long it would take to defeat the Infested and secure his family’s safety back on Romulus; as such, it was uncertain how long he would remain on the ship. That did not mean he intended to isolate himself in his assigned quarters, merely doing his work in the labs and keeping silent as he bore the sins of his fellow Romulans like some sort of scapegoat. No, he’d never been the type to sit quietly on the sidelines while life moved by. He would continue to live as unapologetically as ever, potentially stuck-up Starfleet crew be damned.

Humming one of the more lurid tunes he’d learned as a child from the sailors near i-Korthre, Hirek attached the combadge to the ebony tunic he wore over form-fitting turquoise trousers. It was a pleasure to wear his own Uluma-style clothing again. He’d spent so much time wearing the dreadful materials his former Romulan agents had required of him, Hirek had almost forgotten how pleasant good material felt as it rubbed over his naturally bronzed skin. He let his hum die out as he cued the door open and stepped outside, though the tune carried on alongside the beautifully carnal lyrics inside his head. It was without effort that Hirek moved his facial features into an expression of bored amusement as he made his way through the corridors to the transporter room a few decks above.

That expression changed to one of genuine devious delight when the door to the transporter room opened, and he saw none other than Lieutenant Enyd Isolde Madsen standing next to the pad as if waiting for someone. She was dressed in a plain black knee-length dress, the cuffs of the long sleeves rolled up to near elbow-length, with the plunging v-neck modestly accentuated by the clever placement of her combadge at the tip between her breasts.

“Why what a delight it is to see you again.” He knew she would not feel the same and found twisted pleasure in that fact, his smile growing as he watched her jerk in response to his sudden appearance.

---

[Lt. Enyd Isolde Madsen | Transporter Room 3 | Deck 12 | USS Theurgy ]

Enyd was tentatively excited at the culinary experience she’d signed up for. It had been highly recommended by her Klingon friends planetside, but given the nature of those friends, the coming excursion could go in any direction. Either it was exactly as advertised, and patrons could eat an eight-course meal at eight different unique venues all along the shores of the NIHbIQ'a' Ocean in the city of D’Takka, or it was something ELSE entirely. What the “else” was remained to be seen, but Enyd had experienced enough of the mayhem of the Klingon homeworld to expect the unexpected.

Recent events were still sitting heavy in Enyd's mind, stirring up old dreams that haunted her sleep and pushing at the edge of her conscious mind. There was a lot of responsibility on her shoulders now, or at least more than before, and Enyd had never been known as one to shirk responsibility. In equal measure, she felt the power of Ives' expectations, her own intrinsic push to do her best, and the "ghost" of Rutherford Dewitt tugging at her efforts to conduct her job well. This tour would serve as a needed stress reliever.

Though she was dressed in a simple cocktail dress, she’d chosen it for its lightweight material—less chance of it pulling her under if she fell in the water—along with the fact that it could unwrap and form a rope—if she needed to repel from a tower—and she’d tucked Zark’s gift in her purse along with a few other items that could be used to break out, break-in, or defend.

Glancing at the door as she waited for the others who’d agreed to go on this crazy adventure with her, Enyd turned her attention inward and went over the tour route.

1.   Onok’s Bakery for a type of appetizer
2.   Luyr’s Cart for the equivalent of a salad
3.   G’erc’s Cantina for a soup
4.   Dessa’s Dining for the first entree
5.   Pin’Om’s Eater for the second entrée
6.   Vok’ej’s Tavern for the dessert
7.   Jilagi’s Jewels for the first aperitif
8.   Ushoq’s for the second aperitif

It was during the last two stops that Enyd felt chaos was most likely to happen, as it oft did whenever alcohol was involved.

Hearing the door open behind her, Enyd turned to greet the newcomer but felt her stomach curl with tension when her green eyes met the playful gaze of blue-hazels. Hirek tr’Aimne. Enyd gripped her purse tighter as he spoke, still seething at herself for finding his voice so damned alluring despite their first introduction via kidnapping. Remembering her present location, Enyd’s eyes widened as she felt her stomach again tighten. Surely, he wasn’t joining the tour!

“You’re not here for the D’Takka food tour, are you?”

Enyd grimaced, closing her eyes. Well, she certainly hadn’t meant to ask the question quite like that but too late now. Hearing his chuckle, Enyd opened one eye at a time.

“A tour alongside you sounds most delightful, lieutenant.” He moved out of the doorway, stepping closer, his unique scent further grating on her nerves. It was a refreshing and deep citrus scent with herbal undertones, not unlike a mixture of leather and bergamot, and it aggravated Enyd that she found it nearly as alluring as his damned voice. “Let us wait together for the others.”

As he took a position at her side, his expression openly eager, Enyd kept her mouth shut but nodded. Only vitriol would come out at this point, which would not reflect well on her position as assistant chief diplomat nor as a member of Starfleet. But it would feel damned delightful as a woman to give this hunk of a man a piece of her mind.

---

I think to help keep things moving, whenever you post if you are with a particular group of people only tag those individuals so as to not overload everyone with tags. Also, in your tags, I think it may be helpful to put the order of expected replies, maybe? Not sure which will help most, but do what works for you. Also, you can come in at any time, either on the ship from the beginning, or coming in on the planet while things are already in swing. Fair warning, know that I am employing actual DnD dice in the mayhem making that will undoubtedly come from the depths of my imagination, but also PLEASE bring more mayhem. AND HAVE FUN!

[ Ens. Talia Al-Ibrahim | Personal Quarters | Deck 13 | Vector 03 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @Ellen Fitz

This is getting ridiculous, Talia growled to herself as she rolled her eyes. She stood before the sink in her bathroom, the perimeter of the basin lined with a multitude of various cosmetics and hair care products. Her dark eyes glanced to the chrono out by her desk, ignoring the utter devastation that was her untidy quarters. Time was not her ally.

Turning back to the mirror over the sink, she huffed at her reflection as she shifted her weight from one bare foot to the other in irritation. Her hands and arms fell from her head to her sides in a gesture of impatient frustration.

Her damned hair just wasn’t cooperating.

It had taken her far longer to get dressed than she’d ever admit, too. It wasn’t easy finding a culturally suitable dress for the occasion that she actually liked; being less than an expert on fashion to begin with and utterly ignorant of Klingon fashion – if there even was such a thing. All the more reason to go and see, and learn, and get off this fucking ship for a few hours, she reminded herself as she frowned at her hair. In the end, she’d relied on her own brief research into the issue and some advice from Thea – which she wasn’t entirely sure was a good idea or not – but the damage was done.

Her hands rested on the lip of the sink then as she cocked a bare hip, taking a deep breath to steady herself. She wore a satin maxi – black trimmed in silver – split high on one side and hollowed out below the spaghetti-strapped halter; it clung to the lean curves of her body perfectly. She loved the way she looked in it, but worried about how revealing it was all the same.

Hell with it, she lifted a shoulder in a shrug, smirking. At least I wont die of dehydration under all that leather, ugh, her nose wrinkled at the memory of all those full length ensembles she’d browsed through; all of them adorned with armor and sharp spiky bits. I can’t pull that look off, she shook her head, chewing her lip. Screw it.

“Alright, one more try then I’m cutting you off,” she jabbed a finger at the mane of dark brown hair spilling across her bare shoulders and down her back. “Fucking work with me,” she grunted, then raised her hands into it to try her fourth attempt.

Twenty minutes later, after dabbing some fresh lip gloss on and re-checking her eyebrows, Talia scooped up her heels and small hand purse as she half jogged/ran out of her quarters. The thick rope of her hair – French braided into obedience at last – held draped over her shoulder. It wasn’t the look she was going for, but time had run out. Coming to a stop before the lift at the end of the hall, she remembered her combadge just as the doors slid open. Groaning out an elongated curse as she turned about, Talia couldn’t help but wonder at herself for how well the evening was starting out as she raced back to her room to retrieve it.

[Transporter Room 3 | Deck 12 | A few moments later]

Having donned her heeled sandals and wrapped the straps up her legs in good order during the brief ride on the turbolift – which was a bit awkward to do in her dress, with two other passengers with her – Talia sauntered her way into the room expecting the place to be packed. Instead, there were only two other souls waiting, one looking quite at ease, and the other a little put off for some reason.

One was a Romulan she’d never seen; a head taller than her, handsome but craggy with his salt-and-pepper beard. Beautiful eyes though, she noted. The other was an attractive but rather tense looking brunette in a cute cocktail dress that fit her slender figure quite well; Talia took in her features in a blink, noting how amazing her entire outfit complemented her – the hair, the dress, the shoes, all of it. Yeah, I need to get out more or make friends with her.  She must be Madsen, the instigator and organizer of this trip, her brow twitched as her eyes flicked back to the Romulan, wondering what she’d just walked into as her entrance was noticed. Don't be weird, just relax.

“Oh, hello,” she smiled shyly as she cleared the door, tilting her head as she approached them. “Hope I’m in the right place – this is for the tour, right,” she asked quickly, glancing between the two. “I’m Ensign Al-Ibrahim, but Talia is fine,” she waved to the woman, nodding to the man, then clasped her hands behind her. “Hope I didn’t interrupt anything – I thought I was late so I just kinda...barged in,” she added nervously, still glancing between the two of them.

[ Lieutenant Frank Arnold | Personal Quarters | Deck 10 | Vector 02 | USS Theurgy]   Attn: @Ellen Fitz @Dumedion @redshift316

It had been an exhausting two weeks for the Engineering department.  Generally repairs, modifications, and systems tests had fallen under the department's purview since Engineering was literally plugged into everything that made the ship operate.  These requirements got worse when the ship had holes punched in it, and bits blown apart as usually happened when a ship was at war, whether a declared one or not.  However, the Chief Engineer had reason to be proud as all the major critical systems had passed repair and refit, and it was on to the less combat directed systems.  Many of these items were indeed delicate, and needed attention, but they did not require the Engineering crew's full attention.  With that, he'd decided that the gold shirts needed their time off and a larger than usual proportion from the last two weeks had been given passes and told to get lost and enjoy themselves for a bit.  Coming up with a watch schedule hadn't been too much fun at that point, but with a lot of systems offline, it was a good time to give many an ensign some valuable if boring watch time on their records.

This meant, the bearded Engineer needed something to do, and it was time for a change of scenery.  Away missions were a no go since he had a ship to look after and most of the rest of engineers could take care of that.  His new Assistant Chief Engineer, Azrin Ryn, had taken an opportunity to do just such an adventure recently.  Since she was brilliant, the work was getting done, and had come back more or less in one piece, it wasn't an issue.  His other senior Engineer, Kala Marika was coming along nicely, though the change of hair colour was both a source of amusement and sorrow since it did remind him of Blue.  Tours on planet on the other hand seemed like a good, safe way to decompress, thus he was pleasantly surprised when he'd received a general message from Lieutenant Enyd Madsen of what amounted to a culinary tour of the First City.  While he didn't relish the idea of eating all his food while it was still moving, as was the reputation of Klingon cuisine, he would try at the very least, especially since the Klingons were being excellent hosts to the ship.  While he'd also always prefer a Scotch, real smoking Chech'tluth, and some Breshanti Ale would be welcome, just to see what the fuss was all about.  His thoughts had finally been allowed to freely stray and the smiling face of a brunette conn officer had floated through his thoughts a bit more than usual, and he wasn't sure if it was the most romantic of propositions, but he'd sent a message to the effect that the area this tour was going on was going to be fun, and the views of the water front were very nice indeed.  It wasn't much, but he hoped Jaya Thorne would accept the invitation to meet him at the transporter room with everyone else.

What to wear wasn't too much of an issue since he mainly wanted to be comfortable, so a simple grey button up shirt, dark jeans, navy blue vest, and sturdy walking shoes completed the look.  Checking the mirror one last time, he found everything to be acceptable, though he did make sure to properly condition his beard more than he usually did and set off for the transporter room 3.

[Transporter Room 3 | Deck 12 | A little later]

The Chief Engineer sauntered in and it wasn't hard to smile at the people who were going on the excursion.  "Well, this is a very pleasant surprise.  Good to see you Talia, and thank you for organizing this little cruise tour Enyd.  Haven't been on something like this since the last time I went on a pleasure cruise."  The only one the Chief Engineer wasn't sure of was a salt and peppered Vulcanoid.  It was common for people, when encountering the unknown to take their lead from the one that seemed to know the most of what was going on and Frank had come to know Enyd well enough to detect the subtle sense that something was off with the diplomat and it seemed to be result of her proximity and interaction with the Vulcanoid standing next to her.  It was hard to miss when you spent time sparring/fighting with a person while teaching them techniques and picking up their tells in the process.

Still Frank was a man to form his own opinions, so he would see whether Enyd's pensiveness was warranted as he gave Talia a welcoming pat in on the shoulder and smile in passing and approached the unknown man.  He decided to let irreverence have at it this time and his amused smile was a welcoming one as he held out his hand.  "Hello." he drawled to start. "I don't believe we've been introduced, name's Frank Arnold and I'm the Chief Engineer on this tub.  Can't say I've seen too many men on this ship who have a proclivity towards distinguished facial hair, and it's good to see someone with a fine sense of taste in that regard."

---

Tagging @rae @SummerDawn since your characters were mentioned

[ Lt. JG Nysarisiza "Nysari" zh’Eziarath | Personal Quarters | Deck 10 | Vector 1 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @Ellen Fitz @Dumedion @RyeTanker

After pinning her combadge inside a pocket, Nysari stepped back from the mirror and examined herself with a critical eye. “Perfect,” she decided. She’d been on the Theurgy for a little over a week now, but the Andorian still didn’t feel comfortable back in Starfleet. That was to be expected. Honestly, it probably would have been more concerning if she’d adapted quickly, after tossing aside her family, her job, and every other part of the life she’d built in the past five years to join up with a renegade Starfleet ship. For someone who tended to overthink every decision, Nysari had the strange sensation that she’d thrown herself off a cliff without bothering to ensure that there was a safe landing below. Sure, she’d had days to decide she wanted to reactivate her commission. But she’d only know the truth about the Theurgy’s circumstances for a few hours before being assigned here. Her brain knew this was where she needed to be. Her heart needed a few more days to catch up.

An open invitation to a planetside food tour had felt like being thrown a lifeline. Nysari could never pass up a chance for cultural immersion. Nor a chance to dress up. She’d grown her hair out in honor of the occasion, waiting patiently as the follicle stimulator produced white locks that went down to her shoulders. Many braids later, her new mane was tamed in a classic Andorian style, front braids pulled away from her face, some meeting in an intricate knot on the back of her head, the rest falling down her back. Her makeup was simple enough, subtle except for the dark blue of her lips. Her dress was black, the cut simple yet precisely tailored, high necked and sleeveless to serve as a backdrop for the gold collar necklace she’d chosen as a statement. It was an andorian design, beaten gold arranged and wired to form mythological symbols. She’d found it on her last trip home, and ended up bringing it to Qo’noS with her because it reminded her of the heavy ornamentations worn by the women of great Klingon houses. The only concession she made for her outfit was her shoes. Heels would have fit the mood better, but touring a strange city in heels was asking for trouble. Flats would have to do.

If she was going to be on this ship for the long haul, Nysari knew she needed to make some friends. This seemed like the perfect occasion to get started on that. “Computer, pause music.” The Vulcan classical music that had been playing in the background went quiet. “What time is it?”

“The time is 1700 hours.”

Just enough time for a detour before she met the tour group in the transporter room.

[Transporter Room 3 | Deck 12 | A detour to sickbay later]

Luckily - or unfortunately, depending on how one looked at it - Nysari had been on Qo’noS for well over a month now. She had learned one thing very early on. No desire for cultural experience was enough to make her stomach accept Klingon food. To keep from embarrassing herself in front of Klingon hosts who valued strength in their negotiations, Nysari had turned to modern medicine for the solution. The Embassy’s doctor had clearly dealt with this problem before, as he quickly produced preventative hyposprays. One for nausea. One overproduced enzymes to break down alcohol faster. Perfect for negotiations - and exactly what one needed to survive a Klingon food tour. Once she’d listed off the names of the medications, a Theurgy nurse had been happy enough to provide a dose of each.

“Maybe avoid the Klingon food next time though?” the woman had suggested dryly as Nysari headed out.

“But then I’d miss the taste,” she’d replied with a knowing smile and a self-deprecating laugh. The obvious lie probably only confused the nurse more, but Nysari already off to the transporter room. She was going for the experience, not the food. Knowing Klingons, this was going to be a wild night. That would be true without their alive, wiggling, and pungent food. At least she was prepared for it.

“Good evening,” Nysari announced to the crowd as she entered the transporter room, looking at the unfamiliar faces one at a time, antennae shifting along with her eyes. She recognized Lieutenant Enyd Madsen, one of Nysari’s new superiors in the diplomatic corps. The women seemed to have dressed in a similar vein, all wearing black. She particularly enjoyed how Madsen had accessorized with her combadge. Her gaze lingered a bit longer than necessary at the Romulan, who looked far happier than any Romulan she’d ever dealt with. That didn’t bode well.

“I am Lieutenant Nysarisiza zh’Eziarath. Nysari for short,” her nickname was accompanied by a slight smile. Andorian names tended towards the long and unpronounceable. Even her own people preferred shortened versions. “I was transferred to the diplomatic corps not long after the ship arrived at Qo’noS. Is this the culinary tour?”

---

OOC: Azrin is going to be late but Arnold definitely shouldn't worry about it. (laugh)

Nysari's necklace was inspired by Layla's necklace from Moon Knight, which comes apart and becomes a weapon. It felt very Klingon to me. [Show/Hide]

[ Lt. Kala Marika (http://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Kala_Marika) | Transporter Room 3 | Deck 12 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @Ellen Fitz @Dumedion @redshift316 @rae @RyeTanker 
[Show/Hide]
To say the last week had been rough would be an understatement. Waking up in sickbay being told you'd been on an away mission gone horribly wrong, violated by a plant and almost turned into it's personal nursery like something out of an old Terran horror flick, would be enough to make any sane humanoid consider hitting the bottle. Sanity though, that had been somewhat precarious before the away mission, thanks to the Borg, the Asurians, various other hostiles that seemed to want to take her life by various means. She was technically not crazy, so said the counsellor, processing was normal, to be expected, and as long as she didn't harm herself or others, some latitude to express herself was okay.

That expression, as it turned out, came with a change in attitude, inspired in some large part by her former boss, LtCmdr Blue Tirian. The women had lived life not caring what others thought, at least that's how Kala had seen her, and her nickname well earned, the women could curse a blue streak, and the blue highlight seemed suitable for the women. Kala's brush with death several times, seeing Blue's seemingly carefree approach, it had twigged something in Kala and she'd taken inspiration from the women, and an old terran social group who always seemed to be on the fringes, rebelling against the norms of the day.

The petite Bajoran walked into the transporter room, not her usual blonde hair, casual laid back style she'd been known for before, but in walked a petite women in striking blue hair, purple highlights, knitted black one piece dress, equally dark stockings, and shoes that looked almost uncomfortably tall. Kala recognized her boss, smiling at Frank Arnold. "I guess Engineering is making a showing on this tour Chief." She glanced around, recognizing a few faces. "Sorry if I don't look like my usual self, just decided a change was in order, celebrate surviving another adventure."

She looked back at Arnold, but spoke to no-one in particular. "I do recommend trying the Breshtanti Ale. Rumor on the subspace channels is the colony suffered a major reactor failure, left a crater large enough to be seen from orbit. Won't be much Ale coming from there for a while." She winked at Arnold, she suspected he knew about the mission, and while Kala wasn't stupid enough to admit she may have played a role in that crater's creation, the mission was classified as far as she knew, didn't mean the news wasn't public. And she had to admit she regretted not being able to witness the explosion, the satisfaction of knowing the creature that'd assaulted her died in the explosion, vaporized at the epicenter of a nuclear detonation, maybe it was cruel, maybe not, but it was satisfying to know she'd won.

(outfit ref (https://i.imgur.com/e9tJWpU.jpg))

 [Ens. Mia Dunne | Transporter Room 3 | Deck 12 | USS Theurgy ]
ATTN:   @Ellen Fitz @Dumedion  @redshift316 @rae @RyeTanker @SummerDawn

To say that she’d had a frustrating few weeks since she’d come out of statis could be considered a gross understatement of the facts. Her research had not provided any information that could be used against the parasite, and her last tour adventure had most definitely not turned out as she had imagined it would.  Hopefully, a tour of fine dining, if you could call it that, would at least provide a little relaxation and get her mind off her research.

Mia dressed in a royal blue dress that hung just below her knees, while her back was completely covered, the front dipped a bit lower and showed a bit more of her ample cleavage than she was really comfortable with. This was the fourth or fifth outfit she’d tried on. She sighed as she looked at herself in the mirror and looked at the chrono in the mirror. She didn’t have time to change again if she wanted to join the group. She pulled her hair up into a loose bun and applied the minimum of makeup, mostly to cover the tired circles under her eyes. Slipping her feet into a pair of pumps of matching color to the dress she gazed in the mirror once more, “I guess this is a good as I am going to get,” she said as she picked up a small purse that held a few essential items, like the small multitool her father had given her upon her graduation from university as a Xeno-Anthropologist. He had joked that it would get her out of a lot of difficult situations, even though she had never really had to use it, she just liked having something of her family with her these days.

A few minutes later she entered the transporter room to find a rather large gathering. She stopped in the doorway. There had to be at least six other people ready to transport to the surface.  She stepped inside and looked around cautiously, not really knowing anyone here, except one. Seeing Enyd she almost turned around remembering what they had gone through not that long ago. She gathered what little courage she had and spoke to the gathered group, “Is... ahh, is this the Cuisine tour?”

[Hirek tr’Aimne & Lt. Enyd Isolde Madsen | Transporter Room 3 | Deck 12 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @Dumedion  @RyeTanker  @rae @SummerDawn @Eirual

Hirek did not need to be an empath to feel the waves of annoyance radiating off the pint-sized chaos magnet at his side. While some men, more gentlemanly perhaps, would have given her the time and space to adjust to his presence on the ship before reinserting himself into her presence, Hirek doubted that would be nearly as much fun as what he had now decided to do. This supposed culinary tour sounded terrible, but the concept of being able to tag along by Enyd Madsen’s side, on one part, keeping her alive for the sake of her parent’s part in saving his own family, and on the other, finding endless amusement in just how much his presence goaded her into frustration was too good to ignore. He hadn’t had any firm plans of his own anyway. Maybe find a sailboat to rent and go for a spin, see what sort of sea beasties he could catch and roast on a fire for dinner. The sort of thing he’d been denied for the entirety of his ruse with the other Romulan operatives. While he had no great love for Starfleet, though no hatred either, Hirek at least appreciated his newfound freedom from the calculating eyes of his supposed compatriates.

The first to join them was another human. A shapely dark-haired woman poured into a sleek black dress trimmed in silver, a genuine feast for his eyes. And Hirek never bothered to hide his interest, when it was piqued. His lips pulling back into a sincere smile of pleasure, Hirek inclined his head at the woman’s approach and responded to Talia’s introduction before Enyd could open her mouth.

“Forgive my boldness. You look stunning, Talia, and I count myself one of the luckiest men onboard when I confirm that we are all in the right place for the culinary tour.” He placed a hand over his heart. “I am Hirek tr’Aimne, science specialist.” Shifting his weight, Hirek indicated the diplomat at his side. “It is thanks to Lieutenant Madsen’s help that I now count Theurgy as my home.”

“Temporary...home.” Enyd quipped before she could stop herself and resume a greater sense of poise in the face of his arrogance.

It was then that another bearded man, built like a bulky, meaty weapon, moved into the transporter room. Based on his verbal introduction, it was obvious this man had prior acquaintance with both the women by his side. And based on his physical one, the hand thrust out for Hirek to take in a very Terran greeting, Hirek deduced that this was the time of “sizing up” that often occurred between men. Hirek had always found such posturing to be amusing and only took part when it proved entertaining enough to hold his interest. In this particular case, Hirek felt a greater interest in pestering Enyd than in setting a pecking order with this Frank Arnold, and so accepted the handshake with a playful smile and a nod of agreement.

“Lieutenant Madsen hasn’t quite gotten around to introducing me to all her friends yet. I think it’s on account of her shyness.” He heard her snort at his side and his smile grew as he pumped Frank’s hand. “And it is indeed a tragedy that so many militaries and governments insist upon a clean-shaved visage. Safety precautions aside, a bearded man and a cool ale improve everything.”

Enyd rolled her eyes. It no longer matter that Talia, a new acquaintance, or Frank, an older one, could see her childish responses to Hirek. The honeyed-voiced Romulan was a menace, and he knew exactly how much he annoyed her, and it was equally obvious how much pleasure he was getting out of it. Damn him to the dogs!

Nysari, a new transfer into the diplomatic corps, joined them then and Enyd relished the shift of attention away from the Romulan attention whore who still stood far too close to her side than she would prefer. If he could, perhaps, shift dramatically to the side and find himself in the vacuum of space, that would be preferable. Enyd closed her eyes and realigned her thoughts. She knew she was being irrational about all this, and it needed to stop. Opening her eyes again, Enyd smiled at Nysari once the Andorian was closer to their little gathering.

“So good to see you again, Nysari. I think you’ll like this tour. It’ll take us to about eight different famed culinary spots along the riverside. Should last a few hours.” Glancing at everyone’s shoes, Enyd’s smile shifted playfully. “Hope everyone is good for walking.”

“I thought you preferred running,” Hirek drawled just as a petite woman with a colorful mane of hair joined them. At Enyd’s look, tossed over her shoulder, Hirek feigned a look of confusion, “At least that’s how I met you planet side. I believe you were running away from-“

“I think the hair is lovely.” Enyd smiled at the newcomer. Based on her interactions with Frank, it was apparent this was one of his department members. “Enyd,” she indicated herself then turned her eyes to the others, “I’m not certain if you know Talia, Nysari or…” Enyd swallowed. Despite her earlier convictions, she was still having a hard time getting over herself in regards to Hirek.

“Just call me Hirek.”

This time Enyd managed NOT to roll her eyes at the arrogant drawl in Hirek’s voice, or the show-stopping smile he tossed as easily as a horse tossed its mane. The door chirped open again and this time Mia stepped in. Enyd hadn’t really seen much of the woman since their little adventure at the Orion Outpost. In retrospect, the trip had been enjoyable, if a bit…chaotic and nearly tragic. But she wouldn’t blame Mia if, upon seeing Enyd, she felt the same trepidation Enyd felt whenever she woke up in the morning, with her thoughts wandering to the question of, ‘So what’s going to go wrong today?’

“Hey, Mia!” Enyd gave the woman a small wave as she nodded confirmation. “Yes, we were just getting ready to beam down to our first stop.” Enyd opened her purse and glanced at the brochure to jog her memory before adding, “Onok’s Bakery. It didn’t specify what the appetizer was aside from that it was a local delicacy.” Moving to position herself on the transporter pad, Enyd smiled at the others, even Hirek, since he was standing directly behind Frank. “Are we ready?”

[Meanwhile, in a darkened corner of a ne’er do well bar, somewhere in the heart of the most violent part of the First City]

The crack of bones breaking was one of Lhung’s favorite sounds. It was seconded by the wet, squishing noise when a liver was ground underfoot. If these sounds were accompanied by the squeals of fright from an innocent bystander, well, Lhung counted himself the recipient of some of the greatest music Nausicaan hands could create. Surrounded by the revelry of drunken Klingon brutes, Lhung smiled. There was always an excuse to break bones among the Klingons; the warriors up for a fight at almost the same rate as his own people.

“Hey,” Lhung looked away from a brewing fight at a nearby table, already thinking of a way to push the men over the precipice into a brawl so he could enjoy watching them. His second-in-command, Chaekom, lowered himself into the empy seat at his side, leaning close to speak in whispers yet still be heard over the raucous din. “The handler says the drop will be tonight. Behind Vok’ey’s tavern. We are to neutralize any competition by whatever means necessary and bring the goods to the docks before tomorrow morning.” Chaekom glanced at the table parallel to their own where a trio of younger but no less brawny Nausicaans sat, waiting for orders. “Do you think Grorgei and Yurdz are up for this job? I know Sochk put in a good word for them, but so far, all they’ve managed to do is get us kicked out of the Orion outpost.”

Lhung smirked as he brought his ale tankard to his lips and drank greedily of its contents. Though, as amusing as the memory was, it was true. Yurdz and Grorgei had managed to get their little group on the wrong side of the Orion’s after a certain…misunderstanding with some terribly misplaced Starfleet personnel. Lhung counted it as an act of professional courtesy that their handler, an Orion entrepreneur, had not severed their agreement entirely thanks to the idiocy of their two youngest members and newest recruits.

“I owe their father a favor,” Lhung sighed at the thought of his brother, looting somewhere along the quadrant’s edge while he sat as nursemaid to his children, “and if anything goes south tonight, we have them to sacrifice if necessary.”

Slamming his empty tankard onto the table, Lhung stood, giving his nephews a hard look, before turning towards the backdoor. They had work to do.

[Ens. Talia Al-Ibrahim | Transporter Room 3 | Deck 12 | USS Theurgy] Attn: @RyeTanker @rae @SummerDawn @Eirual @Ellen Fitz

Head tilted, Talia couldn’t stop the genuine smile from spreading across her face at Hirek’s compliment even as her dark brown eyes flicked to Madsen as the Romulan explained his presence aboard. Hm, wonder what the story is there, she thought, noting the diplomat’s less than positive reaction to his words. As she drew breath to respond, she heard a presence enter behind her; Frank Arnold. She met the burly engineer's eyes as he laid a warm hand on her shoulder in greeting. “Hey Gramps,” she murmured, lifting her chin to him fractionally as he passed.   

Watching Frank and Hirek size each other up was amusing – but not as interesting as Madsen’s constant emotive responses to the pretty-eyed, silver tongued Romulan at her side. Gonna keep an eye on that one, she told herself, arching a brow as she caught him glancing her way whenever he could. Talia exhaled with a huff of amusement, but offered no other outward reaction.

Her observations were cut off by the arrival of an Andorian; her silver hair bound up in the most exquisite style of braids Talia had ever seen. Now that is gorgeous, she thought, blinking rapidly. The necklace she wore, the dress; the blue-skinned woman wore an aura of poise and elegance seemingly effortlessly. She threw Nysari a friendly smile and a nod as their eyes met, holding the rope of her hair unconsciously. Hm. Wonder if I could pull that look off?

On the Andorian’s heels came a lithe Bajoran woman with colorful hair, dark outfit and boots, the tiny jewels embedded in the heels sparkling. Talia grinned at her too as she nodded a quiet greeting, listening to her recommendation of beverage, noting the wink she sent to Frank. What’s that about, she wondered, none the wiser, but didn’t comment. The last to arrive looked a touch anxious, hesitating at the door with a curious look of apprehension directed at Madsen. Talia bit her lip as she smiled, waving to the blonde. She looks ready to bolt, she huffed in amusement.

As Madsen took her position on the pad, Talia followed suit even as her eyes jumped from one person to the next, memorizing faces with names. Pretty-eyes, Moody, Gramps, Duchess, Sparkles, Skiddish. This should be interesting, she smirked.

[Moments later | Outside Onok’s Bakery | D’Takka | Qo’noS]

The smell and gentle breeze hit her first as she blinked the minor disorientation of transportation away. The air was...spicy, not unpleasant, but degrees different from the carefully controlled artificial atmosphere of the Theurgy. The humidity hit her next, an oppressive blanket of moisture coupled with heat; Talia blew out a breath of air, thankful for the thin fabric of her dress. Whew, hello. Her eyes were drawn to the beach next, off to her right. Black volcanic sand, the rolling thunder of waves, the distant setting sun framed by towering thunderclouds. “Well that’s a view,” she thought aloud, grinning.

She hadn’t considered the effect of windy conditions on her attire, cursing under her breath as her dress blew open at her legs almost completely, a tight smile on her face. Stupid wind, she rolled her eyes as her hand went to hold the damn thing in place. Less than a minute planet side and you flash the whole damn town. Way to go ace, she huffed, doing her best to ignore the glances and open stares of the throng of locals around them.

The group stood off to the side of a wide avenue, the tiered city of D’Takka rising off to the left like some stone-wrought ziggurat from ancient Earth – the buildings and towers and streets lit with roaring braziers. Talia took a moment to compose herself, her eyes drinking in the peculiar architecture. Damn, there’s history here, the faded embers of the former researcher in her beamed.

“So,” she sighed, smoothing her dress as the wind subsided, “where we headed,” she asked aloud, looking around at the various storefronts and buildings marked with Klingon runes and imagery. She didn’t read or speak a lick of it, but she knew the smell of bread well enough. Lifting her chin, she caught the subtle scent of flour in the air as her eyes saw a holographic image of runic symbols flashing around a piece of bread being eaten in half. “That might be it,” she pointed. Then the sign changed to another image of what looked like melons being squeezed. The fuck? “Oh, maybe not,” she added quickly.

[ Lieutenant Frank Arnold | Personal Quarters | Deck 10 | Vector 02 | USS Theurgy]   Attn: @Ellen Fitz @Dumedion @rae @SummerDawn @Eirual

Frank eyes twinkled as the smooth son of a bitch gave the best answer one could hope for on a tour and his smile turned into a lopsided smirk as the Romulan took his hand, which Frank returned with a solid grip and a good squeeze on the attached arm.  Fortunately, one didn't spend as long in Starfleet and being around diplomats without learning a thing or two, so he killed with 'kindness' I do believe we're going to have a good night. The engineer's internal monologue went off before he mentally cracked his knuckles and began to motor mouth at the new Romulan.   "A most excellent suggestion Hirek, I can call you Hirek right? Great! Excellent.  Glad we got that out of the way.  Now, I've heard many a good thing about Romulan Ale, never had it myself, illegal in the Federation, but there should be some good substitutes for us to lubricate the evening and considering how well organized Enyd is, this should be an excellent trip.  Seeing as how this is a food tour, are you going for the all you can eat live gagh buffet at Pin’Om’s Eater?  I hear there's a blood wine mug you can win if you manage to down 3 pounds of the squirming bastards in an hour." Frank was totally bullshitting, but if the mood he was getting off Enyd was correct, then friends had to help out friends and since her Andorian and Romulan actual friend weren't around, it was up to him for the time being.  The door whooshed and a familiar blue haired Bajoran engineer walked in. "Ah, a colleague. Gimme a moment will you? Thanks."

Frank separated himself with equal parts grace and rudeness as he went to greet his fellow Engineer and waved at her as he smiled.  Nodding in agreement that Engineering was making a strong showing; supposedly, Azrin was on the planet having left earlier.  Salt and pepper eye brow quirked as he picked up the reference to the incident on Breshtant.  As a department head and the main engineer for dealing with that teams near disastrous return, he knew his assistant had gone through something traumatic.  A lot of details surrounding the actual mission were missing or highly classified, still as he'd told Azrin a while ago, Marika was coming along nicely, so aside from a change in hair colour and dress, her work hadn't suffered and her head seemed to be in the right spot.  Frank nodded his understanding and made a mental note to try the Ale as soon as he could unless work got out and the price of the stuff went up drastically.

Frank looked up again as a blonde stopped in the door way, and gave off the impression of a deer caught in headlights as she asked if this was culinary tour group.  The Chief Engineer had no idea why the woman was just short of terrified unless she was having second thoughts about the gagh, but a big arm waved the woman in. "Indeed Miss, you've found the right departure gate, come on in, no need to be shy  We're all here for a grand ole time."

With the departure time fast approaching a no more people showing up, Frank shrugged and made his way over to transporter pad.  Maybe Jaya would show up later, maybe not, only she knew.  At least Enyd appeared to be in somewhat better spirits, but that could be a front for all he knew as her eyes had to pass over Hirek to see him.  With friends like this, who needs enemies? The Engineer thought to to himself as Enyd gave the command to energize.

[End of Transport Cycle | Outside Onok’s Bakery | D’Takka | Qo’noS]

The shimmering field faded and Frank took a moment to take in the view of the building in front of him and the smell of a ships finely tuned environmental system was replaced by that of an actual living breathing city.  He wanted to say it had been a long time since he'd breathed this type of air, but having headed to Aldea, it was now something different.  Looking around, the area looked like a town where a festival was in full swing.  Given the Klingon's penchant for fighting, the recent round must have bouyed spirits quite a bit and there were raucous waves of laughter or roaring from various quarters as warriors and citizens left and right shared in copious quantities of drink and merriment.

Same with Talia, he assumed the building in front of them was a bakery and as he looked at it, he took in the metal work that gave the place a fortress aesthetic, but the details of small pinnacles and spire were well crafted into the facade giving the store a sense of grace that accompanied it's foreboding appearance.  Frank was delighted to find their first stop was an actual bakery instead of a place pretending to be one and serving something else entirely.  Talia's comment drew his attention to the holographic sign and it reinforced his view that the place was an honest to goodness bakery, then the signage changed and he heard the pilot curse.  Frank laughed at the pair of melons pouring out their juice after pressure had been applied.  The Klingons sure knew how to market.  Juice and bread it was to start.  "Well Hirek, looks like ale might have to wait, but as far as snacks go, this looks like a good place to start."

Shaking his head as his eyes twinkled, Frank took a look at the window and saw what appeared to be bread and cakes in the window, so he headed to the door and opened it to be hit in the face with the smell of bread, spices, and general melange that said 'cooked food'.  Despite the overall metal and red tone of the store, he could see shelves of loaves and counters with pastries and other fillings for the bread.  True to form, some items even appeared to be moving. Shaking his head again, Frank waved the tour group over. "This looks like the place, come on over now.  You too string bean!  Yes you Talia, come on!  It smells pretty good in here!"  Frank held the door open as everyone entered and as he followed, he didn't mind admitting his ignorance of the shop's contents.  "So ummmmmm,  Nysari do you know much about what this shop has or anything you'd recommend? I'm generally a very meat, potato, and salad kind of guy. " he asked the Andorian attaché in the group.

[ Lt. JG Nysarisiza “Nysari” zh’Eziarath | Transporter Room 3 | Deck 12 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @RyeTanker @Ellen Fitz @Dumedion @Eirual @SummerDawn

This was her second time meeting Lieutenant Frank Arnold in as many days. Once again, Nysari was under the distinct impression that the large engineer had missed his calling. He should have been a diplomat. He summed up the situation and jumped into the spotlight with easy grace, matching the Romulan’s quick tongue. He laid it on perhaps a bit too thick for her tastes, but that was acceptable given the informal environment. Besides, given the way Enyd was reacting to him, their green blooded companion could use someone taking him down a peg - or five.

As Frank seemed to have that well in hand, Nysari turned her focus to her fellow diplomat’s greeting instead. “Thank you for the invite. I’m sure I’ll find it most illuminating, hopefully my stomach will agree.” Though she’d prepared for it, there was always the chance that the medications would wear off if they exceeded Enyd’s proposed time limit. Her mouth was open to continue on with a comment on footwear specifically chosen with travel in mind, when they were interrupted by the Romulan yet again, apparently unable to resist a quick interjection.

Enyd seemed determined to ignore him, so Nysari took up the banner instead. Those who poked and prodded for reactions did not always enjoy pushback from those who weren’t the intended target. “Is running a reaction you often invoke upon meeting people? How distressing. I know a number of etiquette programs on the holodeck that might cure you of such an ailment, if you’d like.” The lines were delivered with every ounce of polite sincerity she could muster, an insult wrapped in concern wrapped in an offer of help. A politician's standard, trained in the heart of Paris. She capped it off with a sweet smile, allowing a hint of mirth to fill her bright blue eyes, before turning away to meet the others who had since entered. If the Romulan - Hirek, she caught his name moments later - wanted to play games, Nysari was more than happy to join in.

They were adding color to the party now, joined by a Bajoran whose bright hair more than made up for her dark attire and a human in dark blue. The normally muted color should have stood out among the sea of black dresses in the room, but Mia looked like she’d rather sink into the floor instead. “Welcome,” she greeted, offering the blonde a gentle smile that was far more authentic than what Hirek had just received, hoping to emanate a sense of ease while Enyd and Frank answered her questions. Nothing to fear here - besides the food.

Hirek and Mia were the ones to watch tonight, Nysari decided, though both for different reasons. Summing up the various personalities she’d seen so far - with more people sure to join in as the night went on - this tour was going to be far from boring. Now that they’d reached the departure time, Nysari joined the others on the transporter pad, letting the beam take her as Enyd gave the order and they all dissolved into the bright lights.

[When everyone’s molecules are (hopefully) back in place | Outside Onok’s Bakery | D’Takka | Qo’noS]

The first thing she was aware of was the heat. The Andorian let out a silent sigh. Even the lightest of fabrics never prepared her for this, her body meant for the freezing temperatures of home. She focused instead on the rumble of waves, the breeze that offered the slightest reprieve to the oppressive humidity, and the thunder that hinted of a cooling rain. The thought brightened her spirits. On Andoria, rain was a rare and dangerous experience, water that froze the moment it made contact. She’d never experienced a summer thunderstorm until she’d come to Earth, wild and beautiful, a chaotic dance of wind and rain. As she gazed at the storm waiting on the horizon, Nysari thought that such a storm would fit Qo’noS perfectly. The Klingons enjoying themselves in every direction proved that point quite well.

When the others pointed out the bakery, Nysari joined them in looking up at the sign, sounding out the name with her limited Klingon knowledge. “No, this is the correct place. Onok’s.” She shook her head slightly as the sign flipped to a new design. Not what one commonly expected when visiting a bakery, but when on Qo’noS… “I believe that’s a Ka'Tarlk. It is a fruit that shares similarities to citruses.” Rather than directly comment on the image itself, she’d opted for the historian’s approach. If anyone was distrubed now, wait until they made it to a bar.

At Frank’s prompting, she followed the other’s inside, ending up near the back with the engineer as he came in. “If you want meat, I’m sure you will be well taken care of, though you will be disappointed if you want it cooked. Typically, they bake the bread then carve out a pocket to insert the gagh. That way it stays fresh and doesn’t expire from the cooking temperatures. Hopefully the people in charge of this tour planned it with our dietary requirements in mind. On average, Klingons are hardier than most Federation races - perks of multiple stomachs and livers - so some of their food can be quite toxic. I know they ferment some fruits before cooking them into pastries. By the time they’re finished, the alcohol content is impressive.” she gestured towards a case off to their right, thick breads with creamy filling dripping from the sides and slices of fruit accenting the tops. “Unfortunately, I do not know which one it is.”

“Ah, it looks like they’re ready for us.” An oversized Klingon in an apron was navigating out of the back with a tray in hand. She wondered how he even fit in the shop, or saw where to step from behind his wild mane of hair. He looked more fit to swing his bat’leth in the middle of a battlefield, but here he was baking. As someone who hated violence, she approved of his choice. From their position in the back of the group, Nysari couldn’t see what he was bringing, but it was probably the local delicacy Enyd had mentioned earlier. Time to dig in.

OOC: Just thought I'd throw a wee curveball before @SummerDawn or others post. Cheers!

---

“Ha'DibaH!” Pimlargh, the third daughter of BorghwIw', growled at her oversized husband, kicking his feet off the stool as she bustled past him. “The tour will be here soon! And the bloodwine battertoast is still in the oven! Do I have to do everything around here?”

Her husband, Ruvoy, fifth son of Tlhurghwob, built like a warrior but ever robbed of battle glory, heaved a sigh of such magnitude the fire in the oven seemed to flicker. His wife had a singular ability to break in through his daydreams just when they were getting to their bloodiest.

“toDSaH woman!” Ruvoy leaned forward, braced his hands on his knees, and hoisted his immense girth off the stool with at least three winces. “Young Tughwurgh pulled them out of the oven some time ago. They’ve been on the back rack cooling.” He shooed his wife away from the back door before she could move to grab the bread herself. “How about you go take care of the liver loaf while I see to the tourists, eh?”

Pimlargh harrumphed before pivoting on her heel and marching into the adjoining room. It was in those moments that Ruvoy remembered why he’d married her. The way her nostrils flared and the blood in her cheeks deepened her skin tone in anger…oh, it stirred his gut like nothing else. Thoughts of mating with his wife lightened his mood as Ruvoy grabbed hold of the pan of gooey bread and made his way to intercept the group he now spotted coming in from the street. Nodding his greeting as he dropped the pan on the outdoor table set up specifically for this event, Ruvoy did not see the four 'obray'wal curled up in the shadows of the fluffy toast. This scorpion-like creature loved the taste of blood, and no one in the bakery had given a second thought to leaving the toast out in the open to cool. This had offered the perfect opportunity for this arachnid-esque fiend to suck at the bloodwine-infused toast, now potentially laying in wait for unsuspecting tourists to strike.

[Ens. Mia Dunne |   Onok’s Bakery | D’Takka | Qo’noS]
ATTN: @Ellen Fitz @Dumedion  @RyeTanker  @rae  @SummerDawn

The young Ensign materialized on the planet’s surface. This was the third time she’d been planet side and so far the first two trips were anything but calm. She really hoped this tour would be pleasant, although she was a bit leery of trying to eat anything still moving. The heat that hit her when she materialized was anything but comfortable even with the breeze coming off the nearby body of water that helped just a little. Mia was glad she’d chosen a lightweight dress, although she was debating if a bikini might have been more comfortable. She listened to the other members of the group talk about the sign that was brightly lit over the entrance of the bakery and smiled as she too glanced up at the odd depiction of fruit juice. She followed the others into the establishment, breathing in the scent of fresh baked breads and spices. “Maybe this won’t be so bad,” She whispered to herself as she stayed towards the back of the group. She peeked over someone’s shoulder to see a very large Klingon carrying a tray into the room. She almost stepped back at the sight of him, but someone else was right behind her blocking her in. She was trying to remember everyone’s names, but the introductions were so fast that the only name she was sure of was Enyd’s, so she just stayed quiet and looked for a better vantage point. She moved a little to the side so she could see better and give herself a little more space.

She was feeling a bit claustrophobic after her last outing. "Maybe this wasn't such a good idea," she mumbled to herself as she took a deep breath to try to remain calm and not race for the door. She stood quietly and looked around at the pastries on the shelves that the Andorian woman had talked about. At least there were no squirming things pouring out of them. Just that idea made her stomach roil in protest. She forced the thought out of her mind and told herself to stop thinking those kinds of thoughts.

Mia brought her attention back to the Klingon in front of the group and wondered if they had anything that didn’t have alcohol or live creatures in it. It had been a long time since she’d had anything resembling alcohol and didn’t think her metabolism would handle it too well, meaning that she thought she would get drunk and most likely embarrass the group, Starfleet, The Ship, and mostly herself.  Well, at this point she did not care if Starfleet was affected, not really. If anyone had been watching her, they would have noticed how she was nervously opening and closing the small purse hanging at her side.

[Hirek tr’Aimne & Lt. Enyd Isolde Madsen | Onok’s Bakery | D’Takka | Qo’Nos ] Attn: @Dumedion @RyeTanker @rae  @Eirual @SummerDawn

Hirek delighted in the vast differences to be found among these associates of Enyd. There was obvious loyalty displayed by more than a few towards Enyd, their reluctance to effusive greet him or their intentional gruffness both bearing testimony to the underlying bond. One response in particular that intrigued Hirek was the young blonde female who had seen Enyd on the transporter pad and visibly blanched in response. While there did not seem to be any ill will held between the two, at the same time, this blonde in blue had experienced something with Enyd that gave her reason to be cautious. Hirek smirked. Considering how he’d met the brunette lieutenant, he could only imagine.

The Andorian diplomat, Nysari, had fire in her veins, relying on her diplomatic skills to attempt a cut at Hirek’s ego. Hirek’s eyebrow rose, a playful smile crinkling at the edges of his eyes and tugging at his lips.

“That is most kind of you, Nysari. Perhaps we could partake in the program together, so you can explain the more complex points to me. I am, after all, a Romulan, and the intricate nuances of social ailments often allude us." He refrained from the wink he felt the temptation to throw in her direction but Hirek did give in for the overly polite nod, a hand covering his heart in feigned gratitude.

Introductions, pontifications, and expressions of hope made, and the group transported to the planet. They were immediately embraced by the seaside atmosphere of D’Takka. Allowing himself a brief moment of authentic expression, should others choose to see it, Hirek closed his eyes and deeply inhaled the familiar scents of the sea, a smile of peaceful contentment pulling at the edges of his lips. It did not matter the planet, so it was proving to be, but anywhere there was the sea, and Hirek felt at home.

Talia’s question broke through Hirek’s momentary reverie, and as quickly as the wave of joyous calm had washed over him, his features settled back into the typical expression of sardonic amusement. His gaze traveled over the various signs of vendors, waving and tapping against each other in the sea breeze, before he took note of the reason for Talia’s pause and Frank’s laughter. He slanted a feigned grin of lechery towards Enyd, amusement slithering into his gut when she rolled her eyes and chose to speak with the Andorian diplomat instead of responding to his infantile prodding. Did she even realize how entertaining she was to annoy?

“Nysari,” Enyd shifted closer to her fellow diplomat as they moved into the bakery, “have you ever made Andorian spiced ale cookies? I got the recipe from one of my old classmates from my time on Andoria and I was told nearly every house has its own version of the sweet.”

Once inside, the Klingon baker, a man more warrior-looking than many warriors Hirek had thus far seen, announced their fare as he brought out the fresh tray of bloodwine battertoast and unceremoniously dropped it on the table that had been prepared for their tour. As he’d never signed up for the tour and had only joined because of serendipitous fate, there was no seat for him. But that didn’t stop Hirek from dropping in nice and close next to Enyd, making sure his shoulders were tightly pressed against hers, the baker frowning before turning to seize hold of another chair and dropping it at the far end of the long table. For her part, Enyd continued her efforts to ignore him and instead concentrated on the battertoast waiting for them.

“While it isn’t ale, Klingon bloodwine does have its own sting.” Hirek tossed the comment Frank’s way, not yet reaching for the snack, content to watch the fellow tourists settle themselves around the table. Looking over to Nysari, he added, “The alcohol is used as a passive ‘cooking’ agent for the raw meats, cleansing it of parasites and making it easier to digest. I think if those with lower tolerance limit themselves to one of these beauties, we should be able to continue on to the next stage of the tour without drunken misbehavior.” 

Enyd bit her tongue, rising above her own immature desire to point out that there was no “we” with Hirek, as he’d never signed up for the tour. She knew this as she’d been the one to confirm the numbers and names with the tour agency. But as she’d rather enjoy the evening and avoid a diplomatic incident, that of a food fight with an irksome Romulan, Enyd brought a smile back to her face as she eagerly looked around at the fellow tour patrons.

“I was told that Onok’s bakery has the best bloodwine battertoast on the planet. They get the bloodwine from local breweries and mill their own flour in the back.” Enyd reached for the first bit of toast as she continued, “Legends tell of a Klingon fisherman who won over a vengeful mermaid who’d been drowning fellow fisherman by dropping this toast into the sea. Then, when she ventured on land to eat some more, he cut out her heart and used her blood to make this present recipe. To this day, the locals claim to use mermaid blood for their wine. A local tavern song about the story is considered one of the most romantic in the area.”

While Enyd brought the toast closer for a bite, she did not see that one of the ‘obray’wal was still a passenger on the unseen side of the tasty treat. Hirek did, and without warning, he slapped the toast out of Enyd’s hand, sending both toast and ‘obray’wal soaring across the table to land at the far end closest to the poor tourist who’d chosen to sit there. Enyd first felt shock, then anger, and finally confusion.

“What –“

Enyd’s question was cut off by a blood-curdling scream mere seconds before the table in front of her seemed to explode into a series of splinters, the victim of attack, once the remaining ‘obray’wal made themselves known to both proprietor and visitors and their destruction was mightily sought after. Eyes darting to the heavens as bedlam erupted around her, Enyd sighed out a series of plaintive curses to the stars that seemed to hate her.

[Ens. Talia Al-Ibrahim | Onok’s Bakery | D’Takka | Qo’Nos ] Attn: @RyeTanker @rae @Eirual @Ellen Fitz @SummerDawn
[Show/Hide]Talia threw Gramps a smirk as she approached the bakery; shooting the chief engineer a look that said ‘String bean? That the best you can do?’ with a twitch of her muscled arms just for sport as she passed. Once inside the bakery, her eyes looked over the décor and various food stuffs with interest, having never stepped foot in such an establishment before. Klingons liked their fires, and wood apparently, as almost everything seemed to be made of the same dark, glossy paneling trimmed with an iron-like metal. She smelled bread, and smoke, and spices; and rows of those peculiar looking fruits lined upon shelves off on the side. She remembered Duchess had mentioned their name; carchalk huh, she grunted, blinking as her mind chewed the name over. The Andorian certainly seemed to know her way around Klingons; Talia caught the word ‘meat’ from the conversation, which pulled her already divided attention to what the diplomat was saying. Wait, Klingons have multiple stomachs?

Caught up in all the sights and smells, she’d completely forgotten that she had quite literally stopped in her tracks, blocking traffic – only when Skiddish and Sparkles tried to move around her did she scramble out of the way, off to the far side towards the fruits with a murmured apology. Glancing at the blonde after Mia muttered something about ‘a bad idea’, Talia offered a kind smile at the poor girl’s look of apprehension. “C’mon, it’ll be fine,” she whispered a reply, jerking her head off to the side. “Want to try some juice with me,” she asked with an encouraging grin, as the big Klingon lumbered into the scene with their tray of samples. Talia arched a brow at him and the offerings, wondering why he appeared so grumpy, but didn’t comment; she just huffed an amused breath as he dumped the tray down on the table – then waved him over after picking up a heavy mug from the table below the fruits.

The large fellow took his time coming over after grabbing a chair for Hirek, eyeing her over with what Talia interpreted as an unimpressed grunt; unsure what to say, the pilot just lifted her mug and pointed at one of the melons. With a fanged grin, the apron covered baker gripped one in a huge hand, as Pretty-Eyes and Moody chatted. Without a word of warning, the big man poked the side of the fleshy orb with a blade and squeezed – chuckling and grunting at her all the while. Talia narrowed her eyes at him, brows knitting as she watched his beady eyes dart up and down her body – turning her face into a ‘grow the fuck up’ look of annoyance. “Okay, I think I can take it from here big guy,” she growled at him, snatching the fruit and squeezing the rest herself – grunting right back.

It didn’t seem to have the effect she wanted, as the big man’s face split in an even wider grin, his head bobbing enthusiastically. Damn, that's a lot of juice, Talia thought with a frown, shaking the last few drops out into her mug, then tossed the remnants over to him. Just as he caught it, and Talia was raising the mug to her lips, she felt something slightly damp smack her right in the ear – splattering the side of her face with wetness. The fuck, she managed to think as she turned, unconsciously swiping the remnants of bloody toast across the side of her face as a blur of red soared past her vision; her brain processed it as a blob of clawed digits clutching at the air. Her eyes followed it, seeing something attached to the big baker’s face – something that should not be there, that had no right to exist outside of hell itself. She swung her mug at it with everything she had on instinct, as someone started screaming. It might have been her.

The juice contents of the mug vanished in the wind-up, mostly; the rest splattered over the poor baker’s head on impact. The arachnid – whatever it was – leaped from his face at the last second, sailing over Talia’s shoulder with its limbs splayed in the air. She registered the jarring impact up her arm, the dull thonk of mug hitting flesh, and the baker’s confused grunt as he staggered to the side – then collapsed completely – falling like a dead tree, right into the table prepared for them. His weight launched the entire spread into the air; a literal explosion of baked-goods shrapnel, mixed with even more arachnids. Chaos reigned.

“Where’d it go? Where’d it go,” Talia screamed, eyes wild with adrenaline, spinning around with her iron-mug raised high to strike as hell descended on everyone.

[ Lieutenant Frank Arnold | Onok’s Bakery | D’Takka | Qo’Nos ]  

Attn: @Ellen Fitz @Dumedion @rae @SummerDawn @Eirual

It was natural to treat anything new as suspicious and everyone dealt with it in their own way.  Frank had grossly over simplified in being a meat an potato sort of guy.  It meant he ate foods that to many humans, looked like food without all the usual cultural assumptions one normally had.  Some of the pasties and buns looked recognizable, and he had picked out a bag that appeared to be on the milder side of what appeared to be food in case the bloodwine battered toast was found to be disagreeable.  Taking a seat across the table from Enyd, and between Nysari and Mia Dunne, he regarded the plate curiously as he was not sure if the burgundy colour of the toast was natural or if it came from the colour tone of the lighting.  Not content at all to dive into the culinary 'delicacy', his brows furrowed as he intently stared at the bread and let his internal debate rage over whether to eat the thing.

The furrowed brow somehow became even more furrowed as he swore the bread jiggled of it's own accord and this was enough for him to decide to not eat the Klingon expression of culinary creativity.  The story Enyd told of the toast didn't add any sort of incentive.  The Chief Engineer balled his fists on the table as he looked up at the brunette to seek assistance in finding a way to avoid eating the bread.  This gave him the perfect view when the salt and pepper Romulan sitting next to her smacked the bread out of her hand with all the force a Vulcanoid naturally processed.  Frank's initial reaction was that Hirek was upping the level of rudeness he was showing Enyd, but the intuitive sense kicked in and made the linkage to the bread moving on it's own and his arm lanced out to grab the back of Nysari's dress while his other arm flew out in front of the blonde scientist and he naturally leaned back sending all three tumbling onto the floor.   Frank had a mere moment to wonder if he'd gone crazy when his eyes widened as a mass of bread, pointy claws, mandibles, legs, and a nasty looking stinger went flying over his face just as a very high pitched scream emanated from somewhere in the store.  To be fair, he wasn't sure if he was the one doing the screaming either.

Frank got lucky as the ‘obray’wal had been intending to sting the human in the face and the stinger was engaged in mid flight, missing by a few mere centimetres and sending it cartwheeling in mid air to land on it's back.  It took a moment for the arachnid to right itself and try to turn around seeking it's bearded prey once more and Frank flipped over bringing himself to face with the monstrous looking insect.  What in the hell is that??! Frank thought to himself before his boxer instincts took over and a fist lanced out at the bug which sensed the strike and tried to jump out of the way.  It almost made it, but the bug was facing the wrong way to get a full picture of what to avoid and it was sent cartwheeling again from the impact.  Had it been capable of speech, the bug surely would have been cursing its fate being so close to a massive meal only to be foiled.  It probably would have also surprised at where it landed when it connected with the relatively soft leg of another patron where the stinger immediately engaged on instinct and stabbed the unfortunate man causing him to roar in pain as only a Klingon could.

The sting victim stared enraged at the beast stuck to it's leg and using his blood boiling strength and reflexes, smacked the offending insect off his leg.   Too preoccupied and stuck, the insect was smacked dead on and sent flying through the open kitchen doors where the proprietress was looking out to see what all the commotion was about and cursing up a storm in the process.  As her mind registered the threat inside her establishment, she screamed a war cry that reverberated through the store and charged in amongst her ovens to smash the offending beasts.

Frank watched pandemonium break out as the stabbed patron seized up, then fell over twitching and foaming at the mouth.  This seemed to enrage the other patrons who set about trying to smash the critters, or in their confusion begin punching or throwing each other around the store. "Ladies! I believe this is our invitation to disembark the crazy train!" Frank yelled to everyone just as a blood maddened drunk Klingon took a swing at his head and missed as Frank ducked.  The human boxer delivered a three hit combo that staggered the inebriated attacker who seemed to stumble a bit as his eyes rolled into the back of his head before taking a wild swing that Frank easily dodged as he sidestepped.  Only to see the soon to be unconscious man teeter then try to grab onto Nysari for support.  This failed miserably as he then collapse on top of her, pinning her underneath 250 pounds of sweaty, fermented smelling, knocked out, drooling, hapless Klingon man. "Definitely time to leave."  Frank concluded as he ducked a flying plate before moving to help the Andorian diplomat from her predicament.

[ Lt. JG Nysarisiza “Nysari” zh’Eziarath | Unfortunately still inside Onok’s Bakery | D’Takka | Qo’Nos ] Attn: @Ellen Fitz @Dumedion @RyeTanker @Eirual

Here she was, taking a seat at a bakery on an alien world, about to embark on a tour of their finest delicacies, and Nysari was instead struck with a craving for spiced ale cookies. The desire might have been less potent had she not spent the previous month and a half on Qo’nos and discovered how her gut rebelled against their food. As much as she enjoyed cultural experiences normally, Nysari already knew this one was going to come with a price. “I have made them, but they so pale in comparison to my ch’te’s baking that I stopped in favor of his. He has an unfair advantage, being a baker. He got recipes from each of our families, then took his favorite elements from each to create a blend unique for our bondgroup.” She could practically taste them, the ghost of memory alighting momentarily on her tongue - which only served to make the battertoast being placed before them seem more unappetizing.

Nysari actually relished the chance to continue her verbal sparring with Hirek - there hadn’t been time in the transporter room, but she really had to make the time tonight to invite him to the holodeck. Quick tongues would help her forget about her small, frozen world, and everything she’d given up to come here. “Make sure you only eat one then,” came the sweet reply. There would be no trying to one up him. The earlier trip to sickbay had ensured her delicate stomach could keep up, but not overindulge.

The stories were what she’d come here for, antennae swiveling in Enyd’s direction as the other diplomat explained the history behind this meal. Ended in violence, commemorated in song, how very Klingon. “I hope our host will indulge us with a rendition of that son-” Nysari had turned a winning smile to the baker, too focused on Talia’s attempts to juice a Ka'Tarlk to notice the Andorian. She’d hoped he would turn, but instead she was cut off as everything promptly dissolved into chaos.

She’d accidentally positioned herself for the perfect view. Bread flying right into Talia’s face, some creature following suit to hit identically on the baker. The pilot shouting and hurling her mug at him, juice flying like a wave, covering a semicircle in bright orange droplets. The baker falling… ah, that was right towards her, wasn’t it?

Thankfully, she’d taken a seat next to Arnold. The chief engineer’s reflexes were clearly faster. She’d started to reach towards the table to push herself back, only to find air as the table collapsed and a hand on her dress dragged her forcibly away. Breath escaping her lips in a gasp as they hit the ground, Nysari scrambled to her knees, doing her best to reorient herself in a room full of screams, both Starfleet and Klingon. “Where did it go?” That was the first order of business, though she doubted anyone could hear the question over the ruckus. She wasn’t screaming, but Nysari could feel her blood pumping, eyes darting to and fro to search out their attacker. In the explosion of bread and splinters from the table, she’d missed the ‘obray’wal flying over them, looking completely in the wrong direction until a scream of pain drew her gaze.

Arnold was yelling at them to get out, but Nysari shuffled over to the collapsed Klingon, trying to get a look at the wound. “Someone get a medic!” She called instead. It was ghastly, the puncture already swelling far more than she would have thought a bug of that size could manage, dark streaks beginning to lance out from the edges. No medical training, no tricorder, and no first aid kit, there wasn’t anything she could do but call for help. Her skirts were twisted after her fall and clambering across the floor to get over here, and as such she fumbled to get her combadge out.

Her fingers were just brushing cool metal when someone dropped a building on her. At least that was what she ascribed the crushing weight to at the beginning. But this mammoth was far too warm - and frankly, pungent - to be the building. Pushed to the floor yet again, Nysari groaned, cheek pushed into the floor, one of the beads in her braids pushing into her head. Thankfully she’d been bent over to the side to get a look at the other Klingon’s injured leg, or else this one might have dropped her right onto a dying man. A few shuffles here and there tried to suss out an escape, but honestly it was a struggle to breathe. Her ribs hurt. A moment later, the crushing weight abated ever so slightly, Frank managing to move the drunk enough for Nysari to wiggle her way out. “Thank you,” she managed, amid deep breaths to fill her lungs. Her whole back was going to be black and blue tomorrow.

She accepted help to her feet, but still refused to leave. “What about the one who was stung?”

[Ens. Mia Dunne | Onok’s Bakery | D’Takka | Qo’Nos ]
ATTN: @Ellen Fitz @Dumedion  @RyeTanker  @rae

Mia had found herself sitting next to one of the two men on the tour, Frank, if she remembered correctly. She gave him a small nod before she allowed her eyes to wander over the room. She had to stifle a small giggle as she watched the interaction between the tall dark haired female officer and the baker squeezing the juice from one of the fruits. A small smile played on the corner of her lips as she thought to herself that this trip might prove amusing after all.

She turned her attention to the table looking at the offered delicacy and trying to figure out if it would offend the proprietor if she only had a tiny slice of the battertoast bread.  She glanced around at the others who also seemed to be holding off on partaking of the baked offering.  Maybe she could just pull off a small piece. She began to reach her hand, pausing with her fingers mere inches from the bread when she saw it jiggle. Her brows furrowed in debate as to why it was moving. Perhaps someone had jostled the table.
Then she saw something. Something that definitely was not edible in any way shape or form. Some sort of hideous cross between a beetle, spider, and scorpion. If she recalled from her studies, it was a deadly insectoid called an ‘obray’wal. She heard a slapping of a hand and screamed at almost the same time. The thing on the table jumped just as an arm came across her chest sending her backwards to the floor. Her hair spilled out of the bun and wrapped around her face obstructing her vision as the table exploded in front of her. Her head hit the floor bringing stars to her eyes for a second.

Shaking her head slightly as she tried to pull her hair from her face she rolled over to get her footing and stopped when she saw that thing, or another of them, on the ground just as Frank punched at it and it jumped off to land on another patron. The scene quickly dissolved into chaos. One Klingon roared then fell, the victim of the arachnid’s sting. Other people were either bashing at tables trying to kill the invading pests or were fighting each other, either just for fun or to get away, she wasn’t sure.

The Klingon who’d been stung had started convulsing. Mia was staring at the man, stunned that the venom of whatever that thing was could work so fast. She scrambled to her feet just as she heard Frank suggest they get the hell out the area. Before she could even take one step towards the door a fist came flying towards her. She gave out a small yelp as a large fist connected with the side of her head and she went down again. The thought went through her mind, “Fuck ME! I am really starting to hate this planet!” She could already feel the side of her face swelling up.

She pulled her hair from her face once more and found the Klingon who had been stung was right in front of her, but he wasn’t moving now. She had no idea if he was alive or dead, but it did not look good. She looked around for anything to protect herself. She spotted her purse, which luckily was within easy reach, and grabbed it. At least it was something she could use. 

“I think Frank is right,” She yelled to be heard above the chaos, “We need to get out of here! If that is what I think it is, you don’t want to get stung.” She struggled to her feet, her dress wrapping around her legs and pulling the entire dress crooked and accidentally baring one breast for all to see. Mia was not even aware of this fact as she tried to make her way through the pandemonium to the exit.

[Hirek tr’Aimne & Lt. Enyd Isolde Madsen | Onok’s Bakery | D’Takka| Qo’Nos ] Attn: @Dumedion  @RyeTanker  @rae  @Eirual 

[ Pimlargh, the baker’s wife]

The glorious sounds of violence tickled her ear hairs and drew Pimlargh from the anteroom adjacent to the kitchen just in time to witness the latter portion of bedlam. A black object flew over her shoulder and glancing back into the kitchen and catching sight of the obray’wal, Pimlargh bellowed out her rage. Of course, her husband was flirting with one of the twig off-worlder females while their shop was being torn apart by the wrestling madness of writhing bodies and broken bread rolls.

Hoisting a flour-dusted rolling pin into her hands, Pimlargh called to her son, “Egoll, destroy the beast. I will deal with your father.”

Re-emerging into the mayhem that used to be her shop, Pimlargh’s eyes narrowed as she watched the dark-haired female mark her husband in foreplay, smashing a mug against the side of his head as a promise for more in the bedroom. Ignoring the rest of the chaos, Pimlargh removed the braided sash that held her apron to her body, wrapping the ends around both her palms. Pimlargh grinned at the thought of impending brutality, holding the sash tight between her hands. No upstart off-worlder bitch was going to mark her husband and walk out of here. Walking on silent feet, a strange phenomenon considering her size, Pimlargh skirted the edges of the mess, her eyes burning a promise of fiery violence trained on the woman who’d dared to touch Ruvoy.

[ Birlak, the unfortunate patron ]

He hated his mother-in-law. The evil demon from the deepest depths of hell haunted his every step, and he’d had enough of her nagging. If the damned shrew wanted bloodwine buns, she would get them. But she was going to get them laced with a special ingredient. Normally used as a type of anti-venom, g’rnok extract had common side effects of explosive diarrhea, days’ long flatulence, swollen tongue, hair loss, and a breakout of painful gorches. And those were just the common side effects. Birlak delighted at the potential other, more rare, ones that sometimes led to sleepwalking. Their home situated on the cliffs with very little between the front door and a sudden drop to the sea would prove most interesting should the hag produce those particular side effects.

But his designs on dishonorable payback proved to be his undoing. Not only was he not to receive the bloodwine buns, but he was instead the recipient of an obray’wal sting. Roaring out his displeasure at the fates and the fiend that left its potent venom in his body, Birlak crumpled to the floor after swatting it away. The venom was almost immediate in effect, seizing his muscles and producing a thick foam that filled his mouth. Barely conscious, face contorted with pain, Birlak slapped at the sachet tucked into his belt. The g’rnok extract could save him from the painful explosion that occurred from the obray’wal sting. But…Birlak wheezed…he may not get it in time…

[ Yrasha, Ferengi merchant’s wife ]

Yrasha never could understand why Somp loved Klingon pastries so much. And neither could she understand why alien females liked to act so…disgustingly by wearing clothing in public. Did they not respect their men? Did they not hold themselves in high enough regard to walk properly nude in public? Regardless, Yrasha had sniffed in disdain at the gaggle of aliens when they’d first arrived in the bakery. She was careful to keep her eyes averted from the group, not wanting to draw attention to herself nor spend too much time staring at the audacious females clad in such a horrific fashion.

The bakery’s daughter was just about to hand Yrasha her husband’s order when absolute chaos broke out behind her. Of course, the females were the instigators. Alien females were so much trouble. Before Yrasha could grab the box and flee, a Klingon oaf dared to touch her. Bebar, Somp’s second, quickly introduced the Klingon to the remains of a broken chair, sending the oaf crashing backward to land on top of one of the alien females already kneeling on the floor next to a writhing Klingon man. Moving to her side, Bebar tried to make way to the door, but one of the alien female’s ducked in front of him. Bebar was quick about eliminating the barrier, smashing his fist into the side of her head and sending the blonde out of their path to freedom.

“Females.” Bebar snarled over his shoulder as they finally made their way outside. Yrasha couldn’t help but sigh out her agreement, at least for alien females. Glancing over her shoulder one more time, Yrasha felt a small sliver of appreciation when the blonde Bebar had punched allowed one breast to spring free from the confines of her terrible clothing. Perhaps he’d managed to knock some sense into her.

[ Enyd, victim of chaos ]

It had taken a good few seconds of objectively watching the chaos unfold around her before Enyd returned enough to her senses to move. And good timing, for once, kept her from getting smashed in the back of the head with an empty platter. One of the patrons sought to take out an obray’wal as it skirted across the remains of the table still leaning in front of Enyd. Of course, she didn’t duck out of the way with the poise and grace expected from all her years of dancing and gymnastics. No, she face-planted next to the writhing body of a Klingon patron.

Enyd heard the calls for a medic just as she watched his hand consistently slap at his belt. Slithering forward, not wanting to raise up more than was necessary for fear of getting her head knocked off her shoulders, Enyd thrust her hand into the man’s belt, fingers grasping a small vial and pulling it out.

“What is this?” Enyd stared at the dark liquid a moment before looking back to the man, noting how the last bits of his coherent energy seemed to be spent on his attempt to point at the vial. She had no basis for knowing what the liquid was or why the man would want it now, but she also didn’t have a medkit suitable for such a situation, and with all the violence around them, it seemed unlikely that anyone else would be able or interested in finding suitable assistance before the worst happened. Wrestling the top off, Enyd scooted forward to cradle the man’s head as best she could, considering his shaking. “Bottoms up.”

No sooner had Enyd said this when she felt her own bottom lifted into the air, and her body tossed over a large shoulder. “This part of your tour is over.” Was her only warning before Enyd was bodily tossed out the bakery's front door, landing painfully on her rear and rolling to a stop near the middle of the walkway just outside the building.

Bruised, dusty, and terribly confused, Enyd managed to come to her feet without assistance and took to brushing the bits of earth and bread from her dress as she waited for the rest of her companions to be similarly reminded of the pressing time constraint of their tour.

[ Hirek, thoroughly amused with everything ]

Immediate crisis averted, Hirek was quick to his feet as the bakery exploded into a frenzied furore. He trusted Frank to take care of the women closest to him, so he made no movement to go to their aid as Frank managed to move them out of harm’s way. The bearded man even managed to heroically hoist the Andorian out from under the girth of a fallen patron. What a hero. In truth, Hirek only felt any semblance of loyalty to Enyd, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t do something absolutely necessary to keep the others alive and relatively in one piece. Hirek smirked. The blonde, Mia, was not so fortunate, coming to sudden blows with a passing Ferengi, even baring a breast in the process of her attempted exit.

Before Hirek could draw her attention to that fact—as much as he enjoyed any exposure to well-formed breasts, he didn’t want her to risk harm to her beautiful bosom—he spied intentional movement out of the corner of his eye. The fact that it was calculated and deliberate drew his attention, and with predatory-like reflexes, Hirek shifted on his feet and ducked out from the chaos as he tracked the baker’s wife on her route toward Talia. He knew nothing of why the baker’s wife would suddenly want to do the dark-haired beauty harm, but Hirek had no intention of letting her. Again, not so much out of the goodness of his heart but more so because he knew if anything happened to these crewmates of Enyd’s, especially while he was here, there would be hell to pay with Enyd and with the captain, and he just didn’t have the energy to deal with that sort of silliness.

Likely sensing his movement in her peripherals and not knowing if he was a friend or foe, Hirek had to duck under her arm, armed as she was with the iron mug. This put him right against her, his body pressing hers against the wall and placing him between Talia and the baker’s wife.

“Don’t mind me,” he murmured with a smirk, “I’m just rescuing you.”

Shifting again on his feet, Hirek set a firm grip on her waist as he pivoted away from the wall, intent upon leading the woman away from the murderous intent of the baker’s wife. Only the Klingon woman moved faster than he’d anticipated, and she was waiting for them on his turn. She’d changed out her make-shift garrot for a broken chair, her smile no less murderous than before. In his attempt to abruptly push Talia away from him and hopefully around the baker’s wife, Hirek misjudged the strength of the iron mug and Talia’s grip on it. Somehow, the object tangled in the length of his tunic and dragged him off his firm stance.

This sent him spiraling against Talia, the two of them careening through the commotion until he landed on his back. Hirek reached his hands up instinctively when the mass that was Talia fell towards him, his hands sliding up her sides, taking her dress with them, until she landed, straddling his chest, her rear nearly in his face. His view now entirely made up of Talia’s soft flesh, Hirek almost forgot about the female Klingon. But her raging cry reminded him well enough of her approach. One hand reaching for the broken table leg near his head, and the other placed firmly against Talia’s back, Hirek pushed Talia at the same time that he leaned up and took a swing. The table leg connected with the baker’s wife’s temple, and with a sighed whoosh she collapsed on top of Talia, on top of Hirek. Dropping his head to the floor, Hirek managed to a chuckling groan.

“This part of the tour is over!” Over the dying din of chaos, Hirek heard someone bellow. “Get OUT!”

Looking down the length of his body, Hirek’s lips upturned as he took in Talia’s state, “Are you ready for the second course?”

---

Got permission from Dumedion to manipulate some shenanigans.

[ Lieutenant Frank Arnold | Onok’s Bakery | D’Takka | Qo’Nos ]  

Attn: @Ellen Fitz @Dumedion @rae @SummerDawn @Eirual

Frank kneeled on the ground and heaved as he rolled the unconscious drunk off Nysari before helping her to her feet, but making sure to keep her generally low as bread and nasty stingers seemed to be flying everywhere.  The engineer shrugged at the diplomat's question and barely flinched as another piece of bread sailed over his head.  "I don't know.  I don't think they keep medkitsd around for this kind of situation.  Maybe I can drag him out for transport since I'm not sure how the medics are going to identify who to transport, but .... "  then stopped as the familiar form of Enyd landed next to them in a heap and proceeded to 'treat' the man who'd been stung.  The engineer didn't have time to question the diplomat's methods as soft pillowy bun bounced off his head, reminding him he was in a food fight and he ducked in time to see Enyd pour the black concoction down the man's throat.  The engineer shrugged as best he could from his lower perch and shook his head as confusion was written all over his face.  How had things gotten crazy so quickly?

It didn't seem like the night was over yet as a big Klingon in an apron roared that he tour was over and he bodily grabbed the tour organizer and began carrying her to the door.  Frank got up and gently pulled on the Andorian as the Klingon used his free hand to grab the back the struggling blonde scientist and drag walked her by his side.  The Chief Engineer made sure to try to keep Nysari as low and out of the way as possible as he generally followed in the wake of the irate baker.  This gave him a good view of the powerfully built man tossing Enyd and Mia out onto the street.  Frank saw chance and took it as he gently, but firmly pushed Nysari out the door under the Klingon's arms.  Frank had to sort of aim the diplomat out the door, so he was looking out when he received an eye full of Mia's exposed breast and as that was one of the last things he was expecting to see, he did what any male would do when being given a glimpse of a feminine art.  He froze and stared.  This chance to take in the sights would prove his undoing as the baker grabbed Frank by the vest and yanked him up.  The force was so great, not even the exposed mound could hold his attention and Frank held onto the man's hands as he was lifted in the air.

Frank came as close to panic as he would get in these circumstances as his eyes widened in shock at the bared teeth and very angry visage that was about to toss his ass onto the road as well.  "Erk!  This really isn't necessary."Frank managed to get out as he felt ground fall away from him.  He kicked his legs to find some sort of purchase, and as he demonstrated with Reggie Suder on a previous occasion, he only had a basic idea of how to kick, still it was a kick, and not one to be trifled with as the human's knee squashed out several generations of Egoll's progeny by smashing into his gonads.  Egoll grunted and oofed loudly as he went cross eyed and pretty much dropped Frank, who landed on his legs then collapsed on his ass.  The baker son let out a low keening wail as his hands went to his crotch and then keeled over while seeing several generations of his progeny get wiped from existence in his minds eye.  Frank took the opportunity to scramble out the door to join the others and breathed a sigh of relief. 

Standing up, the Chief Engineer steadily backed away from the door and now alerted, kept his arms and fists up in case violence decided to come spilling out the door after them.  He looked over his shoulder once, pointedly in Enyd's direction to see where he was relative to everyone else before taking a few more steps and stopping ready to make a stand.  The door swung open a few more times and patrons spilled out onto the street, some fleeing the menace inside, or some locked in blows and grapples.  The third time the door opened a thoroughly unexpected site stumbled out, staring around in horror.  It was the slim black dress and peeks of blue hair that tipped Frank off as he moved to grab the custard, batter, blood wine soaked personage of Lieutenant Kala Marika and move her towards the group.  The big engineer gently led the shell shocked engineer by the arm to a bench and sat her down.  "Uhhhhh.  Marika, what happened to you?" The Chief asked as he waved at the other indicating how relatively unscathed everyone else was.

[ Ens. Talia 'Shadow' Al-Ibrahim | Onok’s Bakery | D’Takka | Qo’Nos ] Attn: @rae @Eirual @RyeTanker @Ellen Fitz
[Show/Hide]This is not happening. It was the only thought her adrenaline soaked mind could manage. Unable to process the fact that she’d laid the poor baker out cold – due to the overriding need to fight for her life, triggered by the sight and sounds of one of her worst nightmares made manifest – Talia swung the mug in a death grip, snarling like a wolf in the heat of pursuit. The arachnid evaded, as she reduced one melon to pulp, then another, before launching itself directly at her face. Ducking with a scream, her eyes tracked it as it latched onto the wall behind her – just as her peripheral caught something coming behind her. Oh, fuck, her mind screamed as she backed away from the skittering monster and swung at what she assumed was another. Then she was pinned to the wall, panting, eyes wide in wild surprise looking up into a face she barely recognized. “The hell are you-” she hissed, before Pretty-Eyes cut her off with his explanation of ‘rescue’.

His amused expression didn’t help the situation; Talia struggled in his grip, as she heard movement behind him and her dark eyes narrowed, searching for the spider-creature as she opened her mouth to warn him. Everything happened incredibly fast then: she felt him try to push her away, but then her arm caught on something, and as the room spun wildly she heard the sound of something heavy crashing into something hard. Her ankle gave out in the blur of movements with a painful flare of over-stressed tendons, and she landed on her ass with a grunt – slowed by hands sliding up her body. She had time to glance over her shoulder, her eyes verifying the present situation: she was straddling the Romulan’s chest, essentially bare-assed for all of Qo’noS to see. This is not happening, she thought again, this time with a groan of embarrassment before she was shoved down; her elbows managed to hit the floor first, stopping her from face planting between his knees with a grunt.

She had a moment to take a breath before an unexpected weight hit her back with an audible ‘oof’; her body pressed down completely onto Hirek’s. Groaning under the strain, craning her head up and around only revealed Klingon clothes. “Yeah, time to go,” she grunted through clenched teeth, agreeing after someone bellowed for everyone to get out, and the Romulan mattress she was using chuckled some smart-assed remark. “Shut it, you,” she snarled at him, bracing one elbow on the floor as she pushed up and lifted herself and the dead weight on her back, letting it roll off right at his face.

Then she heard the growl, and felt the body resting on her back move just as gravity should have taken over.

Oh, hell no, her mind deadpanned as she scrambled, kicking her legs out as every muscle tensed to buck the Klingon off; almost at the same instant she felt a hand yank on the thick cord of her braided hair. As nails sliced down her back, snagging on her dress, pulling her back; the prickling, grating sensation of Hirek’s face sliding up her inner thigh, pubis and abdomen combined with the hair being pulled from her scalp forced a howl from her lips as her hands searched for purchase. She gripped his robes and belt in a futile attempt to stop what was happening, pulling them with her as she was dragged off. “Fuck. Off,” she bellowed, lifting a knee up as far as she could, then kicking back blind, feeling a solid impact. Her eyes locked on the mug, freed from Hirek’s loose robes – along with a decent portion of his abs and torso. She could hear the bastard laughing. “Shut it,” she hissed at him again, dropping an elbow on his chest as she reached to secure her weapon.

The back straps of her dress were a shredded memory, but the painful hold on her hair lessened as her fist gripped the mug handle. Talia reared another kick back, this time glancing over her shoulder to aim. Her heel struck dead above the snarling Klingon’s left eye – causing her to release Talia’s hair and grunt in pain. Pushing herself up to her hands and knees, her dress clinging to her body in tattered strips, Talia spun with a roar of frustration and disbelief – intent on braining her attacker into a final submission. The mug met only air, as a fist connected with the side of her jaw. Pain flared as red filled her vision.

She had a second to spit a globule of blood from her mouth, shaking the ringing from her ears as she picked herself up from the floor. She felt Pretty-Eyes behind her, pulling her back away from a second strike. Talia locked weary eyes with Duchess for a split second, then Gramps, and blinked, wondering where Skiddish and Sparkles were. This isn’t happening, the thought fired, sluggish in her brain, as she looked back to the Klingon female running at them. “Oh, fuck,” she mumbled, as she tried to push Hirek away and he tried to push her away, but all they managed to do was get their legs and arms caught up in each other. The Klingon woman roared, a battle cry or some final curse, Talia wasn’t sure; all she knew was the woman had launched herself in the air, and two booted feet were sailing strait at her chest. Evade, evade, her mind told her; the drop-kick was timed perfectly, hitting her square in the breast and upper abdomen, launching her backward along with Hirek. The two careened out the stone-bordered window behind them; limbs flailing with startled grunts and a gunshot bark of laughter.

Fortunately, it wasn’t a long fall.

Talia landed with her head on his chest, wincing as she groaned in pain, looking up into the darkening sky. One leg was angled up on the wall, her hand still holding the mug on her chest as she tongued the bloody split in her lip. “Ugh – my fuckin tit,” she groaned, grimacing as she looked down at the state of herself; everything hurt.  She was in the process of covering what little remained of her dignity when one of the damned monsters crawled its way over the window lip, pouncing right at them an instant later. She swung the mug with a final scream, smashing it from the air with a solid hit. The thing screeched as it flew into the blazing fire of a nearby brazier – where it died in flames, as all monsters should. “Tell your friends they’re next,” she roared at it, then collapsed to catch her breath.

Letting the back of her head fall back to Hirek’s chest, she couldn’t help but laugh at the utter insanity of it all. “Who rescued who, smart-ass,” she giggled between groans. “C’mon down to Qo’noS, dress up nice, try some food, mingle with the locals, you’ll have a good time,” she mumbled to herself as she rolled painfully to her side, trying to fix her dress to cover herself. She wasn’t entirely successful, forcing her to hold the remnant of the top section with one arm over her breasts. Huffing the loose strands of hair out of her face, she sat up, arching a brow at the Romulan ‘rescuer’ as she caught her breath. She shared his amused grin, shaking her head at him. “Lets not make this any weirder, alright,” she smirked at him. “Just...give me a hand with this,” she gestured with the mug to her dress, “and keep the commentary to a minimum, if you can,” she added, narrowing her eyes at him playfully.

Movement near the door caught her attention, as the Klingon female snarled something down at them from the window, flinging her hand purse out the window. “Cunt,” Talia hissed up at her, then turned her attention back to the others. Her eyes widened at the state of Sparkles. Shit, the hell happened to her, she wondered, raising her stolen mug in salute as she sighed. “To victory,” she huffed. “I should have stayed in the fighter bay,” she muttered to herself.

[ Lt. JG Nysarisiza “Nysari” zh’Eziarath | Outside Onok’s Bakery and still not safe | D’Takka | Qo’Nos ] Attn: @Ellen Fitz @Dumedion @RyeTanker @Eirual

In the midst of the pandemonium, Nysari had a hard time hearing what Frank was saying, which was annoying for a number of reasons. One, a Klingon was dying while they decided what to do. Two, she hated not having all the information, and despite everything that was going on, she still balked at the embarrassment of answering incorrectly because she’d misheard. And three, every second she wasted asking for clarification was another second where they could be crushed by falling Klingons, smacked by flying food, or stung by another poisonous insect. The only thing she could hear clearly was a little voice in her head that sounded suspiciously like Commander Rutherford quizzing her on what she’d do in moments where there wasn’t time to plan every moment. Though Nysari doubted that the chief diplomat had had this in mind when issuing the challenge.

She had decided on dragging the injured Klingon outside - a reasonable enough idea that she’d managed to hear, as long as the others assisted in moving him - when Enyd appeared by the downed Klingon’s side. “Let’s get him out of here!” An attempt to join the other diplomat was foiled when a piece of bread sailed right in front of her face, missing her by a millimeter only to hit Frank squarely in the head. Nysari flinched back and nearly fell over again. By the time she’d righted herself, Enyd was pouring something into the Klingon’s mouth. The human woman didn’t get to see the results, but the andorian did, as the foam in his mouth started to dissipate and color returned to his ruddy cheeks. Part of her marveled, forgetting the danger of standing still for a moment. How could Enyd have possibly known that would help?

Then she was returned to reality with a piece of bread to the back of the head. It didn’t hurt, but she could feel the gooey substance as it slid down the previously immaculate braids before falling to the floor. Her hair was going to be disgusting. With the main problem solved - and others quickly mounting, Nysari was quite compliant as Frank ushered her out. She even let him force her head down - ugh, his hand was probably covered in whatever gunk was in her hair - and slipped beneath a Klingon and through the door into the open air.

If only that had been the end of it. Hot and horribly humid as it was, she didn’t feel any instant relief at being outside. What she did feel was a weight instantly vanish from her shoulder. Frank’s large presence had been her shield through the battlefield, and Nysari was instantly aware of its absence. Spinning around, her first thought was that he’d grown, and she immediately realized how stupid that was. The Klingon had actually lifted him up.

“Let him-” the words died in her mouth as her eyes caught sight of movement next to the baker’s head. Another ‘obray’wal crawling past the door frame. The engineer and the baker were too busy wrestling to notice, but Nysari saw nothing else as it lunged for her. This time she did scream as it flew through the air towards her face, she threw herself backwards but wasn’t quick enough. It was going to- Then it was gone, another blur of movement entering her vision. Her heart was beating far too quickly, but she hadn’t been stunned. “What the?” That was when she locked eyes with the targ, now sitting right in front of her, happily munching on its snack. It growled at her, then apparently decided that it liked insects better than Starfleet officers, because it turned and ran into the bakery, eliciting another round of shouting from inside. “Thank you,” she called after it, thoroughly done with this whole failed culinary tour.

It took a few moments for her breathing to start to slow, adrenaline still racing through her veins. Nysari had enough presence of mind to make sure they were all there and standing. Everyone looked worse for wear, but no permanent harm. She was going to have a few nasty bruises tomorrow, Talia needed new clothes, Marika looked shell-shocked, and they all needed a bath… which was enough for her to finally register the substance currently dripping onto her neck. Blue fingers went searching, coming back covered in something thick and sticky. “Jam,” she reported with a sigh. Someone had nailed her with a fruit pastry and the feeling was making her skin crawl.

It would certainly be better to go back to the ship and get cleaned up, but her eyes were drawn to the ocean just across the street. Nysari knew she was vain, and that it was probably a trait she needed to fight back against. But right now, she needed to get this shit out of her hair. “Anyone for a quick bath?” She asked lightly, before heading off to the water. She didn’t get in that far, kicking her shoes off on the sand and wading into her ankles, scooping up a handful of water and pouring it on her head. “Not as cleansing as a sonic shower, but it will do the trick.”

[Ens. Mia Dunne | Onok’s Bakery | D’Takka | Qo’Nos
ATTN: @Ellen Fitz @Dumedion  @RyeTanker @rae  

Mia’s face was swelling quickly, and her left eye was almost closed. She was trying to dodge her way around two Klingon’s who were bashing at the little monsters and sending pastries and fillings all over the place. She felt something hit her back and slide down her dress. She didn’t feel a sting so either it was one of the gooey pastries or the deadly menace was stunned. At this point in time, she didn’t really care, she just wanted to get the hell out of there.

The sound of fighting filled the air around her as she took another step towards the door.  Suddenly someone grabbed the back of her dress ripping it slightly at the seams and almost pulling her off her feet as they propelled her forward unexpectedly. A quick glance at the perpetrator revealed Enyd slung over a large Klingon’s shoulder. She barely had time for this to register when she was all but tossed out of the bakery and found herself rolling to a stop rather painfully and ending up facing the ground, too stunned to move.

She found herself thinking that she should have worn pants even as she struggled to push herself off the ground. The dress once again hampering her movements, except that her own struggle had ripped the skirt part almost to her hip on the right side. “Damn It,” she said as she heard the material give way, “I am really starting to regret getting on that transporter pad.”

She finally managed to roll over and looked back at the bakery, just in time to see a large targ charging inside the building. She huffed a little, still not realizing how badly she was now exposed as she pushed her hair away from her face. Her face hurt, but then, so did most of her body at the moment.

[Hirek tr’Aimne & Lt. Enyd Isolde Madsen | D’Takka| Qo’Nos ] Attn: @Dumedion  @RyeTanker  @rae  @Eirual 

[Enyd, a survivor of chaos]

Enyd’s mouth dropped open as she watched the baker’s son lift Frank as if the pugilist was nothing but a sack of gourds. Her hands gripped for her purse, where there was at least one item that could be used to fend off the Klingon—thanks to Zark—if he didn’t unhand Frank quickly enough to suit Enyd’s preferences. Frank’s reflexes spared them all Enyd’s attempt at knifing a Klingon with a vibro blade with a well-aimed knee to the groin, landing on his rear at the Klingon’s feet. Enyd was quick to hobble to Frank’s side, hands reaching for Frank’s shoulder in a lame attempt to help the engineer to his feet. It was the thought that counted, after all. But she had to duck under Frank’s defensive stance for fear of getting decked.

Around that time, the bakery belched out a goodly portion of the rest of the patrons, including Marika. Seeing Frank unharmed and now looking after Marika, Enyd turned her attention to Nysari and Mia. Mia’s pert breast waving hello to the world was the first to catch Enyd’s attention. While Nysari remained occupied with the sudden appearance of a targ, Enyd moved closer to her fellow Orion outpost survivor.

“Mia,” Enyd placed a hand over her own breast, nodding toward the blonde’s chest, “you’re having a wardrobe malfunction.”

Nysari’s suggestion for a quick bath had Enyd glancing over her shoulder toward the shoreline. While the water was clear and calm, Enyd doubted it was entirely free of wee beasties who would find great pleasure in nibbling on their flesh. However, after looking once more at Mia, Frank and Marika, and finally catching sight of Talia and Hirek as they finally emerged from the bakery, Enyd found herself willing to risk the beasts in favor of rinsing off the bloodwine and jam that had been tossed hither and thither in the bakery.

“I suggest we keep one or two pairs of eyes on the lookout while the rest rinse off. I’ve enough experience with Klingon wildlife to predict that if we don’t take precautions, one of us will end up as dinner instead of eating dinner.” Enyd offered Mia a reassuring smile, gesturing for the blonde to follow alongside her as Enyd fell into step close behind Nysari.

She stopped halfway across the street and pointed to a nomadic vendor calling out her wares near parallel to the bakery, “Mia, that vendor looks to be selling some clothing. The colors are very rich, and many of the materials around here are made from softened sea kelp. Perhaps they have something your size? Could be a nice souvenir.” Enyd again hoped that her optimistic efforts would help dissuade any further fears. None of them had done anything wrong to “deserve” the earlier mayhem, and so it was entirely possible that everything would go on smoothly.

Intermittently along the shore, steps led down to the small beach areas that lined the seaside street of D’Takka. It was to one of these areas that Nysari led the way, Enyd close on her heels. However, they had to be careful once they reached the steps, as various crustaceans and leftover sea kelp decorated each step with a layer of danger for the uninitiated to the delights of Qo’Nos chaos. While Enyd was extremely cautious on the way down, her arrogance at assuming herself free of danger once her left foot touched the sandy-rocky mixture at the base of the steps led her to misjudge her right foot, thereby executing a near-perfect pirouette as she twisted into a pretzel at the base of the stairs.

“At least I can rinse the sand and the jam out of my shoes,” Enyd quipped as she glanced back up the stairs to the other tour patrons, fully amused at having almost face-planted into the sand.

After hoisting herself back to her feet, Enyd joined Nysari in the gentle lapping water. She wasn’t about to wade in past her ankles. She’d survived enough on this planet to know better. Instead, she crouched down to scoop up handfuls of water, which she trickled over her arms, quickly brushing off the food remains. She called out to her friends as she washed, “Luyr’s Cart, our next location, is just a few yards down the street. We didn’t get much of an appetizer at the bakery, but hopefully, the salad can turn out less violent.” She chuckled because, at this point, it was either laugh or cry. “Maybe we can find a pharmacy to help with some of our cuts or bruises?”

[Hirek, delighted with the turn of events]

Hirek caught the unconscious Klingon as Talia’s hoisting dislodged her girth enough to shift the woman’s weight towards his face. He could tell Talia was less than enthused with how things were going, but Hirek lacked the empathy to feel sorry for her. So far, he’d only benefitted from this mayhem. First, a breast flash and then an ass to the face. In his mind, things could only get better.

But then the unconscious Klingon proved to be not so unconscious. Before Hirek could stop her, the woman had Talia by the hair and began to yank at the dark-haired beauty as she continued to haul her body off and away from Hirek. After catching a heel to the forehead, Hirek ducked his head down and to the side, just in time for his face to slide up the length of Talia’s leg. He had the vague decency to keep his mouth and eyes shut as her fragrant folds bestowed an unexpected kiss to his face, the rest of her body still being dragged away by the ferociously angry Klingon woman. When Talia’s efforts to save herself rendered Hirek similarly half-clothed, his tunic hoisted to his neck, his belt ripped askew, Hirek couldn’t help but laugh. A deep belly laugh vibrated through his body and echoed into Talia’s. Even when she elbowed him in the chest in retaliation for his mirth at her predicament, aside from the pause for a grunt, Hirek didn’t stop laughing. This whole ordeal was beyond ridiculous.

Talia landed a solid kick to the Klingon and deftly maneuvered herself to face her foe. Hirek was given a peek of that which had previously been dragged across his face, along with a few more nips and bits, as Talia’s garment was more shredded than ever. He cringed when his distraction by her nude flesh allowed the Klingon woman opportunity to land a solid hit on Talia’s jaw. Spatterings of Talia’s blood spit from her mouth like a true fighter decorated Hirek’s forearm as he reached out to wrap the lithe woman in a firm embrace. There was no way she’d be able to take down the Klingon woman. Especially not clothed in nothing more than imagination. He was ready to tell her when the Klingon woman flew at them with surprising speed and agility. In their efforts to get each other out of the way, Talia and Hirek only managed to make themselves a stationary target.

Talia may have absorbed the booted hit to the chest, but Hirek absorbed the pain of crashing through the window and landed on the street outside, her weight sprawled atop him. His hands were on Talia’s waist, either for protection or bracing, even he couldn’t tell at this point. Blinking away the grit of dirt in his eyes from the shattered windowsill, Hirek gasped in a much-needed breath. He heard her complaint about her breast, the comment helping Hirek blink away the rest of the grit so he could raise his head and see what she was complaining about—he was, after all, a gentleman who would be happy to help massage away the pain. The sudden attack and deflection of the Klingon arachnid had Hirek laughing again.

He moved his right hand to lay more securely over her abdomen as his laughter increased, encouraged by her own mirthful comments about the attempted rescue. While it kept him from taking further liberties with their predicament, Hirek wasn’t entirely sad when Talia rolled off him to her side. Leaning up on his elbows, Hirek watched with wry amusement as the woman tried to make a miracle happen with what was left of her dress.

“Which hand would like placed where?” Hirek purred to the woman just moments before her hand purse was chucked overhead, compliments of their former host.

Laughter still humming in his chest, Hirek sat up straighter until he could pull his outer layer off completely. He still wore a form-fitted shirtless undershirt that left little to the imagination for his muscled physique. While there were some tears and stairs, the tunic was in far better shape than Talia’s dress. He offered it to her while he held out his hand to take the victory mug so she could rearrange her appearance.

“If you’d stayed in the fighter bay, I never would have grown to have such an intimate acquaintance with you." Hirek’s eyes darted down the length of her body, lips pulled back into an easy smile. “And that would have been a tragedy.” Behind them, he heard Nysari suggest a quick dip in the water, followed soon after by Enyd’s call for caution. Heaving a quick snort of amusement, Hirek stood to his full height and offered Talia a hand. "Care to join them?"

[Ens. Talia 'Shadow' Al-Ibrahim | D’Takka| Qo’Nos] Attn: @RyeTanker @rae @Eirual @Ellen Fitz
[Show/Hide]With a resigned sigh, Talia was forced to admit to herself: this man is dangerously attractive. It wasn’t just the looks, which were impeccable; the boyish grin, those fucking eyes, the physique…add that flippant wit and alarmingly alluring charm? Where should those hands go, indeed, she smirked. If not for the utter embarrassment of it all…

Fucking devil, she eyed him over her shoulder. She'd accepted his robe with a grateful nod, which she used to cover herself while removing the tattered remnants of the top section of her dress. Three hours to find this thing, and it gets shredded in less than thirty minutes, she fumed bitterly; twisting the top up into an elongated makeshift rope, she tied it about her hips to hold the flayed (but still somewhat functional lower section). There, now at least my ass isn’t on display.

Unable to find an appropriate response to their…unfortunate…intimate acquaintance, Talia simply shook her head, avoiding his eyes as her cheeks burned. “Shut up,” she muttered, then licked the split in her bottom lip. Once her attire was…well…more or less taken care of, she ran her hands through her hair, flinging most of the bloody crap from it with a sigh. So damn unfortunate, she grimaced, only then noticing Hirek had stood and was offering her a hand. Talia arched a brow at it, but rolled her eyes with a smirk and took it. Her ankle throbbed, along with most of her, but the scratch marks down her back burned the most. His robe was surprisingly soft, but the slightest movement made her want to wince. Taking her stolen mug back, Talia nodded her thanks again, holding it at her side.
 
Turning to watch Duchess and the others by the water gave her pause, dark brows rising with incredulity. “Hard no,” she shook her head. Who knows what the hell’s in that cesspool, she deadpanned to herself, lifting her chin to them. “Not even with you as a floatation device,” she added sarcastically, giving his hard torso a pat as she passed, favoring her ankle slightly. She froze then, as a thought occurred, turning to address him over a shoulder. “Speaking of which,” she turned a bit more, shifting her weight to her good leg as she rested a hand on her hip. The fold of his robe parted, draped over her breasts, but revealing the valley between them and the entirety of her toned torso; her expression a mix between playfulness and petulant. “The next time you offer yourself up as furniture to someone, I do hope you try a bit harder to make it enjoyable for all parties, and not just yourself? Food for thought, Pretty-Eyes,” she let her lips curl at him before turning away, waving over her shoulder.

Time to go, she grinned, once he couldn’t see, making her way carefully over to the others after scooping up her pastry splattered purse. Over the wind and noise of the busy streets, she caught some of what Moody was telling the others; having someone keep watch seemed prudent, and her eyes turned to the supposed ‘clothing’ vendor. Skiddish seemed a bit hesitant, idling without following the others to the water. Talia waved wearily to her as she approached. “You look how I feel,” she offered apologetically with a grin. “After this, I seriously doubt I’ll ever leave the ship again – unless I’m in a damn Valkyrie. You okay,” she asked, gesturing to the blonde’s swelling face. “That looks like it stings,” she opened her purse, pulling out a small pack of sanitation wipes, taking one for herself and offering the rest to Mia. “Here. Won’t do shit for the swelling, but it can’t hurt…eh…worse,” she grimaced, dabbing the split in her lip.

Her eyes flicked to the vendor, tucked between two similar looking buildings across the street. Klingons were walking past, drinking, laughing, shoving each other around. Fucking Klingons, she shook her head, smirking. “Were you going to go check that place out? Want some company,” she arched a dark brow at the blonde, grinning.

[ Lieutenant Frank Arnold | D’Takka | Qo’Nos ]  

@Ellen Fitz @Dumedion @rae @Eirual

Frank's face remained impassive as he listened Kala Marika try to piece out how she'd almost been turned into to bread and blood wine battered custard bun between near hysterical outbreaks.  As far as he could tell, she'd been perusing the hot section and all the moving items that qualified as filling for the bread with intense curiosity when the craziness started.  Someone running passed her had knocked her over the counter and through the food and fell on the ground where she saw one of the bugs and promptly fled.  She'd entered the kitchen where a helper who was trying to get a pot of batter out of the way had slammed into her and covered her in the batter.  Blind and unable to see, she'd stumbled about and tripped, then fell hitting something that knocked a bowl of custard on her.  By the time she'd tried for the exit, the bakery was a war zone and everyone was trying to leave.  One slow moving dessert covered apparition didn't count which accounted for how she'd gotten out, though she'd tripped on a very stinky body that seemed to be suffering from some weapons grade toxic flatulence.  The Bajoran had emptied the contents of her stomach at the door before exiting and being found by Frank.

The steel bearded man nodded before sitting next to his subordinate and placed an arm around her.  He didn't really have the words to comfort her, though he wished he had a flask of something strong and amber to commiserate with the woman.  Hell, even a cigar would be good despite not being a smoker, just anything to calm the nerves at this point.  The sticky wildly looking woman poked her boss and looked confused as she pointed at some of the other women who were with the party.  She was gobsmacked as her mouth open and closed like a fish before words eventually came out.  "Sir, why is that one pretty much naked, and that one's breast sticking out?" Frank just stared in the direction she pointed and tried to think of anything to say.  Kala was bright one and when her thoughts caught up, she simply shook her head, spraying the big engineer with dessert debris and muttered never mind.

Hearing Nysari's suggestion of going to clean off in the lake, Frank looked at Marika "What do you want to do, call it quits here, or keep going?" Giving his fellow engineer a once over, he nodded minutely before leaning on his knees and staring hard at the lake and giving his recommendation. "I think you should call it a night.  Who knows what's in that lake and it seems like you're cleanup job is going to be far more extensive than what a lake can provide."  The blue haired Bajoran stared at the lake, a typical sort of indecision playing itself across her face as she tried to decide whether to take her superior's decision.  After a few moments, she shook her head.  "I've been trying to live safe all the time, and it's almost gotten me killed or assimilated, so what's the point.  Besides, this is what I want to learn to deal with."  Without waiting for a response, Kala followed the two diplomats down to the lake.  Despite her bold declaration, she still tripped on a soft spot the sand, pretty much in the same place as Enyd did, and face planted into the beach.  Seeing Marika spluttering out some sand, Frank shook his head as his deputy got to her feet and into the water to clean off.

"Bloody Marvelous." Frank cursed as he stood up and made his way down with more circumspection to clean the sweet sticky contents off his arm with the others

[ Lt JG Nysarisiza “Nysari” zh’Eziarath | D’Takka | Qo’Nos ] Attn: @Ellen Fitz @Eirual @RyeTanker @Dumedion

If nothing else, one had to admire Enyd’s persistence. Nysari had assumed - incorrectly it would seem - that their tour would end after their ill fated first stop. Dirty, bruised, and some barely clothed, only a Klingon restaurant would even dare allow them entrance in this sorry state, so long as they let Talia and Arnold lead the way to tell of their honorable battles against the ‘obray’wal. Well, that wasn’t true. She could think of a few other species who wouldn’t mind that last problem.

She had never seen water so dark, blackened by reflection of the volcanic sand beneath. Her feet were invisible, hidden beneath the grains kicked up by her entrance. Overly salty drops found their way to her mouth as she poured handfuls over her head. Rivulets streamed down her face, falling to hit her necklace with soft plinks. Hands reached up to undo a few of the worst hit braids, combing the mess out with her fingers before adding more water to wash it clean. Wet, sandy, and salty was not her definition of clean - not by a long shot - but it was a step up from where they’d started. "Much better," she sighed slightly in relief.

When she felt presentable again, Nysari waded out of the water, belatedly relieved that she hadn’t fallen prey to some mysterious sea creature. She retrieved her abandoned shoes, giving them a few quick shakes to get any hidden sand out, before slipping them back on. Since she had arrived first, Nysari lingered on the sand waiting for the others to finish cleaning up, doing her best to rebraid her hair through touch alone. She knew it wouldn’t look good with random undone locks of hair. But without a mirror, she wasn’t sure if this looked any better. All that time she’d spent preparing earlier, wiped out on the first stop.

“What does a Klingon salad include?” she asked, keeping the question innocuous as she looked between the rest of her companions. Having missed their reactions when Enyd originally brought up the next tour spot, Nysari wanted to see for herself if they were ready to continue or not. “I’ve never had one before, nor have I seen the dish. And the cart, is it’ a cart in truth? I could add street food salad to my lists of firsts as well.” That was actually something she’d be interested in seeing. So much for judging who wanted to return to the ship. Two weeks back in Starfleet and she was already courting danger for some cultural exploration. Any rational person would already be calling the transporter chief.

---

OOC: I feel like this is very short, because she can't talk herself into to running back into danger just yet, especially not in front lol

[ Ens. Mia Dunne | D’Takka | Qo’Nos ]
ATTN: @Ellen Fitz @Dumedion  @RyeTanker  @rae

Mia  was still a bit shocked by what had transpired. When Enyd gestured to her breast Mia looked down and realized she was just standing there giving everyone a free show. She could feel her face heat up as she tugged the dress back over her exposed breast. She glanced up to Enyd in time to see her heading for the water. She watched as several other members of the group also waded into the water to clean off. She held back from doing the same, besides, she really wasn’t that bad. Somehow, she had managed to not get food all over her. She debated the wisdom of walking into a murky lake right after seeing what sort of insects they had on this planet No Wonder Klingons were always so angry, she thought to herself, If I had to deal with that all the time, I would be angry too.

Her eyes wandered the squared and came to rest on what appeared to be a small clothing stand. She was now debating whether or not it would be a good idea to see if there was something she could get perhaps as a souvenir. So far, she didn’t really see anything that struck her fancy, but then again, she might not be close enough to decide if there was.

One of the other women walked up and spoke to her.  She smiled back tentatively and took the offered wipes, “A little time in sickbay and you’ll never know, right?” She handed the rest of the pack back, “So you’re a fighter pilot? I would be terrified to fly one of those things, but then, that’s just me. “ Mia shrugged a little as her eyes went back to the vendor as she nodded slightly, “I was debating it, maybe. I mean I guess I can take a closer look, although I am not sure If I really want anything. It looks like most of the stuff is made out of some sort of kelp.” She shifted on her feet as she looked back at the woman, “If you want to look, we can.“ She lifted her eyebrows in question, looking more like she wanted to leave the area and not get any new clothes, but since they had to wait for the others they had some time to waste, and looking at dresses was better than just standing around.

[Hirek tr’Aimne & Lt. Enyd Isolde Madsen | Onok’s Bakery | D’Takka| Qo’Nos ] Attn: @Dumedion  @RyeTanker  @rae  @Eirual

Hirek’s watched Talia’s departure with an amused smile. Flotation device. Furniture. Pretty eyes. Hirek couldn’t help but feel curious about what other sort of labels Talia would toss his direction as the tour continued. It hadn’t escaped his notice either, her limp, neither had all the knicks and bruises the other tour patrons were sporting as they sought some semblance of cleansing from the Klingon waters. He only had so much clothing to go around to be used as wardrobe supplements or bandages if the night continued on this vector of madness. He was half tempted to follow Talia and the formally bare-breasted Mia to the clothing vendor to purchase whatever was cheapest as a “just in case” backup.

Instead, Hirek crossed the street and leaned against the fence overlooking the small beach area most of the others had congregated in. Both Enyd and the engineering crewmate, Marika, had managed to commune intimately with the sand before finding their way to the water. The Andorian no longer sported the immaculately coiffed hairdo but was still nonetheless pleasant to look at, in a water-logged way. Catching her gaze briefly as she sought to reconfigure the locks into a controlled plait, Hirek gave her a very human thumbs-up and a smile. Even without a mirror, she was doing a damn fine job of pulling herself back together.

“From what I read, the salad is a semi-sweet and sour one, made up of fruits and edible flowers and herbs.” Hirek listened as Enyd answered Nysari’s question. “And if the map is to be trusted, the cart is about three of four yards further on down the sea path.”

Hirek looked up from watching the beach conversation to glance in the direction Enyd had pointed. From his vantage point, he could see several carts and nomadic vendors, some looking to sell jewelry, pottery, clothing…ah there were at least two carts that appeared to be in the food business. However, one looked to be more apothecary than a food cart.

“I wonder if this salad comes with a guarantee for no bugs.” Hirek tossed the comment toward the beachgoers with a playful smile. He was aware that he’d managed to come through that fiasco of a first course relatively pain-free. Though the boot imprint from the baker’s wife would likely not disappear for some time to come.

“If I’ve learned anything from my time on this planet,” Enyd pulled herself from the water and carefully waddled her way through the sand back to the steps, “it is that there are no guarantees and the Klingons learned centuries ago to stop making any.”

Hirek snorted as he watched the human carefully climb the steps, her movements stilted as if she expected the inanimate staircase to reach out and bite her. It didn’t help her progress when Hirek made a quick move to poke her, acting on his own set of juvenile delight in teasing her. Enyd reared back but didn’t fall, stabbing Hirek with her green daggered gaze.

“Not at all amusing, Hirek.” She dropped her shoes to the ground, dusting her feet off.

Hirek shrugged, stretching his arms overhead and giving his torso a mobility twist to aid in fighting against the building soreness that lingered on the edges of consciousness. “I think our opinions differ on what is and isn’t amusing.”

Enyd sighed but said nothing further to him, instead throwing her response over her shoulder to the others, “I’m ready for whatever Luyr’s Cart has to offer if you all are.”

[ Two yards away from Luyr’s Cart further on down the sea path ]

“Are you sure Chaekom said he wanted a salad for dinner?” Yurdz glanced over to his companion, Grorgei, confusion winning out over the earlier frustration he’d felt for being told to go on a food run while the rest of their crew waited for their targets to arrive outside Vok’ey’s Tavern. This was their fifth and final stop before heading back to the others, arms filled to overflowing with the other food orders already placed and picked up.

Yurdz’ face could barely be seen over the tower of food boxes cradled in his arms, his voice muffled as he answered, “He told me three times he wanted the Krennla salad from Luyr’s Cart. Also told me he’d finished breaking my arm if we came back without it.” Grorgei heard his companion snort, sounding more like a cough than a laugh. “I think he’s trying to watch his waistline. Ever since Trac compared him to a Klingon mabeb he’s been eating weird shit like that.”

Yurdz shrugged. Whatever the reason, he’d just be happy to return to the others, eat, then break some bones. Running these kinds of errands was punishment for the fiasco at the Orion outpost, he knew that, but it didn’t the grating at his ego. He was built for violence, not stupid shit like this.

*A mabeb is a Klingon toad*

[Lt (JG) XamotZark zh’Ptrell (Lt. Zark) | Luyr’s Cart | First City | Qo'nos]

@Ellen Fitz @rae @Dumedion @Eirual

Zark thought she could finally relax as she sipped her glass of Breshanti Ale, one of the last in existence before word got out about the colony being glassed. She's considered herself lucky to find a place that hadn't gotten word yet that they had a very rare commodity in stock, so she ordered a bottle of the founder's reserve while it was still in existence. After taking a few sips, Zark was now sure that the Ale was a karmic trap by the universe as she'd had to fend off the attention of a drunk Klingon man so she could drink and eat in peace. That wasn't the part that she considered the karmic trap, no, it was the drunkards girlfriend and her friends who had picked her up out of her seat shortly after he'd left and if the universal translator was working properly, calling her a peta'q, bitch, and bunch of other equally nasty things that was going down hill quickly since they were drunk too.

"Hey, look, I'm sure this is all a misunderstanding, I just wanted him to leave me alone so I can...." "Quiet you blue cunt! I should gut you for trying to steal..." Zark was flabbergasted at the implication and it showed. "Steal? What is this? A soap opera? I didn't do anything besides trying to get him to go away. I prefer woman anyway..." This seemed to enrage the Klingon woman even more. "Whaaaat? He's not good enough for you? Is that what you're saying?" she roared as the Andorian's head was starting to hurt at the absurd drunken illogic of the moment. "That's not what I meant. What I said..." Zark was suddenly cut off as pain exploded in her cheek as the girlfriend sent a backhand that snapped the blue head to one side.  The stunned Andorian suddenly tried to double over as a badly aimed, but still substantial fist slammed into her mid section and tried to rearrange her internal organs.  Something that sounded like her voice oofed in response as air was knocked out her.  The stunned Andorian found her vision pointed mostly at ground and she tried to curl in to defend herself, except she couldn't as the friends of the girlfriend had her solidly up. Mindful of not causing too ruckus on planet, the Andorian made one last attempt to calm the situation despite the shock, humiliation, and pain. "Cough, Cough. Now just wait a minute, we don't need this to, hey what are you doing? " was all she got out before her feet were lifted into the air and the Andorian felt herself being quickly carried. Oh shelat! Zark thought as she felt a momentary weightlesness just moments before crashing through a window and grunting as she slammed on a sturdy table. The Andorian quickly rolled to a stop on the patio amidst the wreckage of another indignant couple's dinner of gagh and blood pie.

The Andorian was livid as she heard laughter and yelling inside. Groaning a bit and coughing, Zark got to all fours and deliberately stood up. Only to stop as she saw the shocked visages of Enyd and several other people from Theurgy. "Uhh. Hi y'all. The locals and I are having a slight disagreement." Zark informed the group in a startled tone. Another round of laughter and argument reminded the Andorian she was quite upset and she stripped off her food covered jacket, then pulled out a pair of leather gloves she kept in case she needed to handle something unpleasant, like drunks. "I'll just be a moment. Enyd, can you hold this?" she asked as she pushed the jacket towards the diplomat before heading back inside with a rictus smile on her face. It wasn't hard to find the party that had tossed the Andorian through the window, and Zark marched over, grabbing an empty serving tray from a passing waiter, leaving him spluttering in confusion. The girlfriend was so engrossed in arguing, or was it flirting, with the boyfriend while her friends were too busy laughing they completely missed Zark's return and were shocked when a gloved hand smacked the back of the girlfriend's head causing her to whirl around and gape at the feral smiling blue alien. "Yo bitch" Zark greeted deadpan and swung the serving tray hard into the girlfriend's face. The thwack of alloy smashing into flesh reverberated through the restaurant as the girlfriend swung around and crashed head first into the table causing her eyes to roll into the back of her head as she collapsed on the floor in a heap.

The friends and boyfriend stared in shock at the sudden violence visited upon them, and Zark took advantage of the delay to leap into the air and knee one woman in the face, sending her falling off the chair in a crash that caused a massive spurt of sanguine blood from her as face separated from knee and a cup of blood wine arced through the air. The acrobatic Andorian grabbed the one she kneed in the face and landed on her chest knocking all the air out of the first friend before stepping off and twirling in place to dash away from the second friend.  Klingons were quick, but Zark had had a head start as the other friend tried to grab her, but came up short.  The two were near another set of tables, and Zark twirled as she jumped off a chair into the air, grabbed her pursuer's head in both hands, and let muscles and gravity do the rest as she slammed that hard ridged head into the table causing it to come apart in an explosion of wood.   The angry Andorian grabbed the recently jumped on chair as she landed before smashing it on her pursuer's back, knocking the second friend out and leaving Zark holding a pair of chair legs. The girlfriend was coming to and the Andorian jumped on her back, brought both sticks to her throat and was working to choke the life out of her when her combat sense went off at the sound of a blade being drawn. 

Zark rolled off the girlfriend and brought both sticks to a ready position as a dagger swiped at where her head had been. The boyfriend leered as a cheering crowd grew around the fighters in the impromptu ring. Zark still wore her feral smile as the dagger was flicked at the Andorian a couple of times before the man launched broad swipes that the combat medic dodged or deflected with her improvised batons. The sound of wood smacking into metal and meat seemed to attract more patrons to the sudden fight and a person yelled out he wagered twenty strips of latinum on the Klingon which someone yelled back he'd take, and the betting took off.  A couple of swipes caused the security officer to hop out of the way and she bounced against a wall of people and was pushed back into the centre. Zark barely dodged a slash aimed to gut her, but a tearing sound of cloth being sliced at her abdomen, exposed her taught blue belly eliciting cheers from the crowd as the tempo and volume of betting seemed to increase.

The girlfriend was beginning to stir again and Zark knew this fight was bad enough with one Klingon. It was time to go on the offensive and Zark flicked a stick at the boyfriend before rolling passed him and striking the back of his knee causing him to buckle as she smashed the other stick down on the groggy girlfriend's head with a loud crack knocking her out again, and turning the stick into so much kindling, then somersaulting over her prone body. A thumping sound from behind her caused the combat medic to swing her remaining stick behind her and it snapped against the Klingon male's leg as the crowd roared in approval at the destruction being wrought. This bought little time as Zark got to her feet and adopted an open palmed wing chun stance in the face of the lethal blade.  Leering at the challenge of an unarmed opponent, the boyfriend lunged to stab in the insufferable Andorian in the chest, and the blue woman pivoted for a miss while grabbing his outstretched arm and pulling him in to deliver an uppercut to his tough, but soft tissue on his jaw. The tough head snapped back as a spray of spittle and blood flew in the air.  When his head automatically reset, a hard elbow hammer smashed into his nose causing a spray of blood to erupt and stunning him long enough for Zark to disarm him with a wrist twist before jumping onto Klingon's front and wrapping her legs around his neck in a headlock. The Andorian held on and tightened her thighs as he swung around like a mad targ to get the blue gnat off his back. Through blind luck he succeeded as several people scrambled out of the way and Zark cried out as she was slammed against a wall eliciting more cheers and groans. The Andorian's stubbornness to hold on and try to choke him out bought her several more slams into the wall and then being smashed into floor where she had to let go and lay heavily to the ground.

As oxygen reentered his system, the boyfriend gasped and looked around, finding the stunned Andorian. Sneering insolently, he made his way over and sat heavily on Zark's stomach causing her to grunt in protest.  This encouraged the Klingon as he threw a punch at Zark's head.  Zark was stunned, but still conscious as she barely deflected that blow, but missed the second one that snapped her head to one side and and sent blue blood flying to the floor.  The Klingon sensed victory and began to grand stand as he straddled his fallen foe before turning his arrogant glance on her once more as the massive muscular hands picked up the the blue woman by her shirt and slammed his head into her forehead with a loud crack causing the Andorian to see stars and almost lose consciousness. 

Seeing her fully stunned and incapable of resistance, the boyfriend went for her throat and closed around her neck, then began to squeeze. Blue arms beat against burly Klingon ones before trying to loosen his grip, and the boyfriend leered one more time before bringing the blue woman closer and biting her cheek hard enough to draw blue blood.  Zark's response was strained, yet succinct and pungent. "Yeeeaarghhh!!  You goddamn targ fucker!!  That hurt!!"  This drama caused some in the audience to roar in approval and amused the man as he slammed the Andorian into the ground once more. "Too bad. You fought well and would have made a good mate if you were Klingon. Better then that peta'q you knocked out. Submit to be my concubine and I will spare you." 

Despite the steady blackening of her vision, that was one offer she would never accept.  There was one last play and she gently tapped the big hand which got the pressure to loosen enough for her to talk. "Not in your lifetime targ dung. Besides, my lovers are much better fuck buddies than you'll ever be"  The hands on her throat began to tighten as a sneer marred the man's face. "especially they know how to use their hands." The boyfriend's position lent an arrogance to his understanding of the situation, but he didn't know what he was holding as Zark's hand straightened, stiffened and launched at his throat. A squishy thump was more felt than heard as the leather clad dagger hand connected with his softer throat.  The Klingon let go of the blue neck to grab his suddenly swollen airway and began choking. With air rushing back into her lungs, the athletic Andorian heaved madly and the Klingon more fell off her than flew, but still she was free. Adrenaline coursed through the combat medic who got up more steadily than one would expect and turned around to her opponent who was now on the ground and had his ass aimed at the sky, trying to get up. Deciding it was best to finish this quickly, Zark ignored her body's protests and wound up her dominant foot, letting loose a soccer kick right between the boyfriend's legs.  All the men and a few woman around the room backed up or closed their legs as they witnessed several generations of a house get annihilated by a furious blue titanium toed impact in mere seconds.  A sympathetic "oooooooh" swept the crowd and the victim squealed in agony and spiked an octave as his eyes bugged out and his hands instinctively went to cover his abused organ.  Slowly like a tree toppling, the boyfriend fell to one side stared in shocked horror at the Andorian. 

Zark was still peeved and in pain, though she was surprised her target hadn't fainted from having his member crushed and decided to end the fight as she pushed the man onto his back and locked her legs around his neck once more.  The powerful gymnast's legs pulled backwards using her more powerful thighs to cut off his airflow.  Delirious with pain and with his inability to draw more breath, the boyfriend steadily struggled less and less till he was almost motionless.  Zark could feel the end was in sight when the distinctive whine of a disruptor firing and sparks exploding from the ceiling brought a temporary cessation of hostilities and the combat medic let go of her quarry and jumped up getting ready for another fight despite her body screaming in protest at being abused so soon.

The crowd parted and a burly, distinguished looking Klingon stepped through the gap. He kept the weapon generally pointed in the Andorian's direction. "What is the meaning of all this?" Zark decided honesty, Klingon style, was the best policy. "This peta'q wanted to steal me from my crew and this targ tit couldn't handle that I am a better warrior than she will ever be. I decided to conclusively demonstrate my prowess." As Zark held her breath, the old man looked at the ground and laughed heartily as he shook his head.  A meaty hand waved and indicated the people on the ground with a flicking motion. More servers appeared out of the crowd and dragged the injured and comatose Klingon's out of the restaurant and into the street. The proprietor turned his smile on the blue warrior that had graced his establishment. "That was good fight young one!   He lowered the disruptor and made his way over to Zark and grabbed her hand.  "The champion of tonight's entertainment!  Come! Food and drink on the house for the winner!" Zark stared back in mild incomprehension before nodding. Spying Enyd and Frank amongst a few others in the crowd, she decided to ride the infamy while it lasted. "Can my friends join me?" "Anyone who is a friend of a warrior like you is welcome in my humble establishment." he dropped his voice suddenly to whisper in her ear. "Besides I know the idiot you beat, so I bet on you. Touch and go there at the end, but I won quite a bit." Zark looked back shocked as he laughed loudly and generously before slapping the Andorian hard on the back and almost completing her opponent's work while leading her to a large table near the kitchen as the bruised Andorian recovered and waved over everyone else to join her. "Come! Food and drink await!  Also a dermal regenerator to get rid of that mating bite.  Bwahahaha!"

All this just cause I wanted some drinks.  Mating bite? Ewwwwww! Zark mentally griped as she was led to the table and offered a wan smile to everyone.

---

OOC: Apologies.  I'd been sitting on this for so long, it just grew and morphed.  shurgs

[Ens. Talia 'Shadow' Al-Ibrahim | D’Takka | Qo’Nos] Attn: @rae @Eirual @Ellen Fitz @RyeTanker
[Show/Hide][Torq, son of Tarq, eyewitness of Ruvoy’s calamity]

It wasn’t every day one got to witness a rival’s downfall, but he had by pure coincidence. The merchant had been walking past the Bakery after relieving himself upon the shore in the alley behind the building, when his ears picked up the odd goings-on within. Another obray’wal infestation, it seemed, the second this season. Balls of Kahless, my luck can’t be that good, he’d grinned, rushing to the nearest window to peak inside. He’d stayed there and watched the entire affair, laughing until he couldn’t stand it. Soon enough, he’d rushed back to his stand across the way to let the others in on the news.

Torq stood across the avenue, a wide grin showing rows of disordered (and missing) fangs as he watched the insanity unfolding at Orok’s; nor was he alone. A small crowd had gathered, as the ruckus and fleeing patrons caught the attention of all the other vendors. The roars of combat within along with the accusations bellowed had provided entertainment without end, leaving them roaring with laughter. “Serves that mongrel right,” Torq cackled, waving a meaty hand at the Bakery with a bark of laughter. “Banishing us all to the shit-side of the street, away from all the customers! Ha! That’ll teach him to clean that vermin-ridden shit-stain of a building and keep his hands to himself! Laid out by a soft-skin human!” Just then, Primlargh’s roaring voice could be heard – damning one of the humans in a vile curse of parentage from a diseased targ – before two of them tumbled from the window to land in a heap next to the street.

“Bahahaha,” Torq and the others roared, pointing.

[Orali, dissatisfied servant to Torq]

Covered in a dark shawl to hide her emerald skin, the young Orion girl shook her head at Torq and the others from behind the counter of the stand. Fools, she cursed them with a smirk, helping herself to a few bronze colored darseks. It wasn’t her fault if Torq didn’t secure his coffer and certainly wasn’t something to feel guilty about. The bastard barely paid her at all or recognized her talent. Several of the other merchants had complimented her sewing, one even tried to procure her service for himself, but the prick wouldn’t have it. Laugh it up, you moron, she smirked at him and the others, knowing she would eat well tonight at least.

Forest green eyes turned to the off-worlders, picking themselves up and milling about. She felt a pang of sympathy for them. Qo’noS was an unforgiving and unpredictable host, not for the faint of heart. They looked battered, dazed, and amusingly confused from what had transpired. Judging from their ruined attire, she could only hope they would notice the vendors. Orali, unlike her idiot employer, was always vigilant for potential customers.

She kept her eyes on them as Torq and the others broke up their boisterous gathering, returning to their respective places of business. “Ah, that was perfection. Nearly shat myself laughing,” Torq chuckled in his baritone voice, like the sound of boulders tumbling down a mountain. “Away from my counter,” he barked at her, waving her back into the tent, “back to work!”

“They are looking this way,” she flashed a green hand towards the pack of aliens. “The dark haired one is practically naked – look! I can get them to buy something! You’ll just scare them off to someone else!”

Torq grimaced at her, snarling. “Don’t tell me my business! Back to work,” he pointed to her sewing station.

“I speak more Federation than you do, you ass,” she hissed back, folding her arms in defiance, nodding at the pair walking towards them. “Look, they come. Let me talk to them!”

Torq growled, showing his gruesome teeth, but turned to her – pointing the same fat finger at her face. “No deals without my permission – understood? You will tell me exactly what they say!”

Orali smirked at him. “Of course, goes without saying.”

[Talia, just trying to find some clothes]

“Yeah, it’s...not for everyone,” she lifted a shoulder at the blonde’s comment about flying. “Still scares me, too, but you’d be surprised what you get used to,” she admitted, biting her lip to keep from grunting with every step. Damn ankle, she shook her head, sighing. They were making their way across the street, ignoring the pack of on-lookers. Well, Talia was trying to, keeping her attention divided between the vendor stalls and Skiddish, who looked like she wanted to be anywhere else.

Things really got out of hand back there, she admitted, still a bit dazed at how quickly everything went to shit. “You sure your okay,” Talia asked her, holding Hirek’s robe closed with one hand as they walked. “Nothing wrong with calling it a night if you want, you know,” she lifted a shoulder at her.

Her eyes narrowed as they approached the row of vendors, as several facts occurred to her at once. I don’t speak Klingon. I don’t have any currency. I look like I just lived through a bar fight to the death. Talia cursed, as a green-skinned female covered in a robe entirely too thick for the heat and humidity smiled at them with a nod.

“Welcome, can help you,” she said, in broken standard.

“Oh, thank you,” Talia sighed with relief, grinning back at her then Mia. “See, things are looking up,” she smirked at Skiddish with a shrug. “Can we look around? Could use some clothes,” she explained, as a grumpy looking Klingon idled next to the Orion girl, eyeing them warily. She cocked her head as the girl murmured something to him, and he grunted something to her.

“Have clothes,” the girl nodded, “have darsek? Trade?”

The hell’s a darsek, Talia wondered, head tilted in confusion. “Uh,” her eyes flitted around as she blinked. “I got this,” she held up her purse, “and this,” she held up the mug taken from the bakery. The Klingon barked a laugh, gesturing for the mug. Talia frowned, but handed it over to him. She watched as he pulled two shiny objects embedded in its side, chuckling as he palmed them and shoved the mug back to her without ceremony. Talia grimaced at the hooked, silver looking things. Are those...teeth, she wondered, as the pair conversed, all snarls and grunts to her.

“These, and that,” the Orion gestured to her purse, “for one,” she gestured to Talia. “Only one,” she repeated, arching a brow at them.

Talia sighed, shrugging. Better than nothing, I guess, she looked to Mia. “Uh...okay,” she half asked, half stated, hoping the blonde was okay with it. “Lets take a look,” she nodded to the Orion, who gestured for them to enter with an elaborate wave of one hand.

Several minutes later, Talia emerged from the extremely small veiled partition in the back of the stall wearing a shiny, but oddly comfortable ensemble made from a combination of fish-scales and a variable mix of sea-weed; sewn together as pants and a top that breathed extremely well in the heat and was surprisingly soft on her skin. Even if it looked crazy, it was certainly better than running around Qo’noS with nothing but scraps covering her dignity. At least it doesn't smell like fish, she huffed, looking at Mia with a grimace.

“How bad is it,” she asked cautiously.

OOC: Talia's new threads [Show/Hide]

[Ens. Mia Dunne | Outside Onok’s Bakery | D’Takka| Qo’Nos]
ATTN: @rae  @Ellen Fitz  @RyeTanker  @Dumedion

While her fellow officer looked for something to wear Mia looked through the selections available. Her dress really wasn’t in that bad enough a state that she needed to change it.
As she waited she heard yet another crash of broken glass and turned to see Zark getting back to her feet. Mia’s mouth dropped open as the Andorian handed her jacket to Enyd, donned a pair of gloves and then re-entered the fray inside the other establishment. Well, at least she knew now it wasn’t just being with Enyd that resulted in chaos. She shook her head slightly as that thought crossed her mind. With a long sigh she turned back to the items at the small kiosk, but not having funds available sort of made looking a waste of time.

When Talia stepped back out in a pair of pants and matching top and overlay, Mia’s eyebrow raised. The outfit actually looked good on Talia, although it was definitely a little more revealing than Mia was comfortable wearing herself.  The slacks gave an illusion of being more revealing than they actually were, but the top was more of a bikini and the overlay was most definitely made to show off skin.

“You look good in that,” Mia said quietly as she nodded, “and you’ll definitely have a souvenir unlike any other.” She smiled a little and shrugged, “We can only get one, and my dress really isn’t that bad. I can just hold the skirt closed and I’ll be fine.”

She was more than ready for finding the next place on the tour. “I hope the rest of the tour is a lot less... intense!”

She looked off in the direction Enyd had indicated the next stop would be and decided to stay with the tour for now. Somehow, she didn't think anything else could go wrong. They had already gotten all the crazy stuff out of the way.  Things had to go better from this point, Right?

[ Lt JG Nysarisiza “Nysari” zh’Eziarath | Luyr’s Cart, D’Takka | Qo’Nos ] Attn: @Ellen Fitz @RyeTanker @Eirual @Dumedion 

Spotting Hirek’s thumbs up out of the corner of her eye, her brows furrowed slightly for a moment, wondering what mischief could be behind this compliment, before deciding to accept it with grace. Nysari nodded politely in response, then finished her task. She was almost certain now that her hair looked awful, but unfortunately there wasn’t much to do about it.

“Then to Luyr’s Cart we shall go.” Seeing that no one was willing to abandon their night out at the moment - Starfleet did tend to leave one quite immune to chaos - Nysari followed Enyd up the stairs. The small grouping of carts not far away seemed their likely location. There was really nowhere else, given the proximity, so she wasn’t surprised when the chief diplomat set a course towards them.

Abysmal as her Klingon was, she understood the characters well enough to spell out words. She spotted Luyr’s in the back, the name sloppily painted into an awning with bright orange paint. Though ‘cart’ seemed to be an incorrect translation. The restaurant was a permanent structure, a decent sized building with a spacious patio. It was merely surrounded by carts. She wondered if it had perhaps started out as one, only to be successful enough to build here instead. Unfortunately, it wasn’t a thought she got to mull over for long. Naturally - because how could their night go any differently - the place seemed to be in the middle of a full scale brawl. “When the itinerary for this trip was introduced, did it happen to come with any warnings?” she inquired politely enough, all the while shaking her head at the chaos unfolding before them. “Maybe we should skip the salad.”

“Or not,” she continued a moment later as a flash of blue crossed her vision, the other Andorian crashing into a table and quickly revealing herself to be Lieutenant Zark, the security officer who had successfully stormed the diplomatic council during Frank’s demonstration earlier in the week. Maybe it wasn’t the food tour that was dangerous, and Theurgy officers were magnets for trouble instead. Based on their one meeting, Nysari shouldn’t have been surprised when Zark handed Enyd her coat and jumped back into the fray. But the course of action was far outside what she considered reasonable, so Nysari was shocked to see Zark heading back. “Wait, Lieutenant. I think it would be best to simply let it-” she trailed off. The other zhen was too far away to hear her now anyway. At this point, she was regretting her earlier bout of adventurous spirit that had convinced her to remain. This tour had gone completely off course.

They watched the rest of the fight from the crowd, Nysari using every skill at her disposal to stop herself from wincing at every injury. Though she would have preferred not to watch, the diplomat forced her eyes on Zark, her fingers hovering over the combadge in her pocket in case they needed to call for backup. When it was over, she sighed silently in relief.

The proprietor’s promise of free food was underwhelming. The food on this tour had been prepaid, so he’d already made money off the Starfleet officers. But maybe something good could come out of it. “Would anyone else like a drink with our salads?” Nysari asked, walking towards the large table offered to them. She’d even drink bloodwine at this point.

“Salads?” the formerly boisterous Klingon suddenly looked a bit shifty. “For all of you?”

“That is what was listed on our culinary tour, yes,” she replied, blue eyes giving the old Klingon a once over. “Will that be a problem?”

“Problem? For my champion and friends? Of course not!” He laughed as though it was a silly question, then vanished back into the crowd.

“After all this drama,” Nysari said dryly as she took a seat with others, "I’m getting the impression that we won’t be getting this famous salad after all."

[Luyr, The kitchen, a few moments later]

“I’ll beat you senseless boy! Or I’ll let that Andorian have you for dessert!” Oh, why had he allowed his sister to talk him into hiring her idiot son? Order supplies for the cart, with all of the quantities written down for him. How hard could that be? But no, instead he’d been off all night writing poetry to a woman who had - rightfully - laughed him off her doorstep. Now, Luyr’s restaurant was full, and they were nearly out of Krennla salad.

“We have enough for the andorian and her group, at least. Don’t we?” He glared at his nephew as he went scurrying to the storage room to check. There would be no honor for that fool.

[Hirek tr’Aimne & Lt. Enyd Isolde Madsen | | D’Takka| Qo’Nos ] Attn: @Dumedion  @RyeTanker  @rae  @Eirual 

“You might find this amusing, Nysari, but the only warning was for dietary restrictions. They made it clear that none of these establishments offered any sort of dietary alternative, so if you couldn’t eat x, y, or zed, then you shouldn’t join the tour.” Enyd glanced back at her fellow diplomat and gave a half-shrug. “Most likely, none of what we have experienced so far would merit a warning label by a Klingon’s standards. And they’re only recently started making more touristy type areas with tours, obviously still have some kinks to work out. My suggestion is we take time to send our feedback at the survey they said would be given to us at the end of the tour.”

Looking forward again, Enyd yelped. If it weren’t for yet another timely save by Hirek—he was getting damned annoying about it now—Enyd would’ve ended up with glass shrapnel and wood splinters all up and down her body, compliments of the flying blue mass of power that landed in front of her. Enyd pushed out of Hirek’s protective embrace, having the decency to give him a pert nod of thanks before looking back to find none other than Zark hoisting herself to her feet.

“Uh, sure.” Enyd accepted the soiled jacket without pause. While Nysari attempted to dissuade the blue-skinned hellion, Enyd knew better. Zark had her ass-kicking gloves on, and she wouldn’t take them off until someone got their ass kicked, even if it was her own.

Moving to get a better view, Enyd grimaced at the brutality she was witnessing and yet felt her heart swell with pride that it was her friend doing all the ass-kicking after all. Hirek excused himself from the rest of the group and sidled up to a group of men who looked to be exchanging bets. The Romulan’s lips pulled back in a bright smile before he leaned in and whispered his own. Enyd envied him in a way. Were she not surrounded by colleagues and fellow diplomats, she might’ve also bet on Zark because the Andorian was a sure thing. Then with their winnings, they could buy a tankard of ale to wash away their distaste for all this chaos. She hoped Hirek had bet on Zark because if he didn’t, Zark was going to beat his ass next.

Enyd gasped when the Klingon opponent gave Zark the mating bite. Trying her best to hide it, Enyd chuckled. She remembered that this would not be the first mating bite Zark had received from a Klingon. Perhaps the Andorian should develop a taste in Klingons and get it over with since she seemed to be a sex magnet for them. Enyd felt a powerful presence next to her and looked up to see an equally powerful-looking Klingon approach. She shifted out of his, moving closer to Hirek and his newfound friends. Even though she watched it happen, the disruptor fire still make her startle, though Zark’s honesty brought a smile to her face.

Enyd and Hirek drew close at the proprietor's announcement, the others following suit. Before Enyd could inquire about Zark’s health, Hirek raised a bag with a happy grin. “He’s not the only one who won tonight. I had no doubt you’d beat him.”

Enyd was curious if Hirek had bet on Zark to endear himself further to her and the others if he’d genuinely supported her prowess. Now was not the time ask. Moving to Zark’s side, Enyd didn’t bother asking before taking the Andorian’s arm around her shoulder and helping her to her seat. The rest of the party situated themselves around the oval table, surprisingly not damaged in the brawl. Hirek pulled a chair out for Talia, complimenting her on her new outfit. He was quick to also pull out a chair for Nysari as well, leaning close and whispering a continued reassurance that she looked lovely. Enyd did her best to ignore the man while she took the dermal regenerator from one of the waiters and set about repairing the damage Klingon’s could’ve been lover gave her.

“For the tour, bahgol tea and na’an juice are your options.” A waitress dropped a platter on the table, have the cups a steaming beverage and half the cups an almost gelatinous orange color. “For the champion, chech'tluth!” A second waiter dropped a pewter pitcher of steaming liquid with enough glasses for each other them.

Enyd grimaced. That was the same drink that’d knocked her on her bum when out with L’Nari. She’d only had two glasses then, and while it had been on an empty stomach, she knew from experience she’d best take it easy on that. A bowl with warm water and a towel were shoved into Enyd’s line of sight, and she glanced up to find Hirek holding a small canister of black cream.

“The wife of Lur,” he pointed to one of the men he’d been betting with, “said this helps with sore joints after a good fight. She was so impressed with how you handled her sister’s son that she wanted to state her thanks with this.” He set the cream on the table in front of Zark before moving to take his seat at the far end, closest to the exit, in case anything went wrong. Again.

“Krennla salad for the tour! And for our champion as well!”

The proprietor brought out what looked to be shredded gladst with grapok sauce over a bed of various shredded vegetables and fruits. By and large, it looked to be the most appetizing bit of Klingon food Enyd had seen in quite some time. Until she got Zark back to optimal level, Enyd wasn’t interested in eating just yet. Hirek, on the other hand, almost immediately dug into his salad, along with his na’an juice. It paired well, a slightly sweet spice in the drink with the citrusy umami of the salad.

“Since we’re trading stories,” Hirek addressed his question to the group, “has anyone else received a Klingon mating bite or other unintended romantic overtures in your travels?”

[ Lieutenant Frank Arnold & Lt JG Kala Marika | Luyr’s Cart, D’Takka | Qo’Nos ]  

Attn: @Ellen Fitz @Dumedion @rae @Eirual

Frank didn't have much to clean off, so he quickly did what he had to, and made his way back up the stairs to the street.  Calm seemed to have been restored, though it was occasionally disturbed by the yelling coming from Onok’s Bakery.  That place was in total trouble, but he put it out of his mind as he looked around the street and just took in life.  He smiled as it appeared that Talia was having her wardrobe annihilation taken care of, though the choices were definitely a very local variety, and it seemed Mia had joined her after covering up that wonderful sight he'd seen.  With nothing else, to do, he waited for Nysari, Enyd and the Romulan to join him before they all set off for the next location.  If nothing else, he would see this tour through.  Afterall, what happened at the bakery was just strange coincidence right?

Fate decided otherwise as the Chief Engineer almost ran into Enyd when Hirek pulled her out of the way and another blue form came crashing into the patio amongst food and patrons.  He'd have laughed if he wasn't so shocked at the sight of his ass kicking assistant from the Diplomatic Council demo right in front of them chomping at the bit to get into a fight.  The bearded man smirked as Nysari tried to verbally restrain the combat medic and he only shook his head as he put his hands in his pockets and followed everyone in to watch the show unfold. 

Frank had gotten a sense during the boxing night, that Zark wasn't someone he'd really want to fight with no rules allowed, especially given the way the Deputy Security Chief fought, and his suspicions were confirmed as Zark started using more weird tricks than he could count to level the playing field.  When betting began, he shook his head again as he sidled up to the bar to order a drink when the bartender came over. "Ah, it's good to have a fight in here again, been too peaceful.  Damn fighting didn't even come near us." The bartender started.  "Still, that blue one is feisty.  Too bad she's going to get eaten alive." "I doubt that." Frank countered and the bartender showed rows of mis aligned teeth at the challenge.  "Care to place a wager?  What do you want?" Frank had to think fast on this one.  "A bottle of your most rare Breshanti Ale."  The bartender scoffed at what could possibly be offered. "Against that I'll bet a bottle of Lagavulin 30 Year Old Scotch."  Both parties realized they had no idea what the relative value of each one was, but a bet was a bet.  "And I'll throw in a keg of Guinness beer as well." Frank threw in as an enticement as Zark got her legs around her opponent's head.  The bartender hesitated once more as Frank held out his hand, but quickly shook on it with a nasty smile when Zark got slammed into the wall. 

Oh Crap! Frank thought as he saw Zark go down. No No No! Oh Damn! followed when she was punched in the face and got a nasty looking bite.  Then the miracle struck and a smile split the bearded man's face at the counter that saved his bet.  The engineer turned a happy grin on the shocked bartender when Zark got out from under the Klingon.  "My bottle please?"  The bartender didn't hear him as he stared in shock at the fight site.  "Hello! My bottle please?"  Frank snapped his fingers in front of the bartender, which snapped him out of the shock, though he still seemed to be in a daze and went to get the bottle.  "How many glasses?" he asked in a leaden voice.  What is going on? "Give eight glasses, and just put them on a tray" The zombie like bartender moved to comply and Frank collected his winnings though puzzled at the reaction.

It took a little work to move the tray through till he got to the table that everyone was sitting at and he placed the beverage down just as he heard Nysari as for a drink.  "Did someone call for bottle service?"  Frank happily cracked the bottle open and began pouring the translucent gold liquid.  He placed the first glass in front of Zark as soon as Enyd began fussing over the security officer. "Compliments of the house thanks for your valiant services."  Frank poured another one and handed it to Nysari.  "A lady shouldn't be kept waiting."  It was a large bottle, so it sufficed to provide everyone at least a cup of the intoxicating brew.  Sitting down, Frank took a sip and blew out air appreciatively at the combination of cereals, caramel, and minerality of the drink.  He was taking another sip as the salad arrived, and at least it looked like a salad, so he was prepared to eat it, especially now that he was in a good mood from winning the bet.  As he waited for Hirek to finish piling on salad, Frank went next and prepared a plate for the women first as he answered waitress and Hirek's question. "Can't say I've had that dubious pleasure ever, at least not something that bloody. A tea please. And can someone tell me what happened?  I won a bet, but the bartender was acting funny when he handed the booty."

Just then a wet blue haired Bajoran joined them dressed in what appeared to be a religious appearing robe of some sort. "Sorry, this was all I could find.  There is a lot staring at this table.  Same question, what'd I miss?"

[Ens. Talia 'Shadow' Al-Ibrahim | D’Takka | Qo’Nos] Attn: @Eirual @rae @RyeTanker @Ellen Fitz
[Show/Hide][Back at the clothing vendor]

After wrapping her ankle in the shredded remnants of her dress in an attempt to keep the swelling down, Talia nodded to Mia, throwing Hirek’s robe over her shoulder with a smirk. “I’m sure it’ll be fine. Besides,” she fished her combadge out of her purse before the bag to the Orion girl with a nod, “I think we handled ourselves admirably enough with that insanity, all things considered.” It wasn’t like any of them asked to get attacked by monstrous, blood-sucking insects. Or angry Klingons. Wonder what that lady’s problem was anyway, she thought, but dismissed it as irrelevant. The night was young, and she was hungry. Setting her badge in place on her uniquely local top, Talia frowned as her stomach spoke up.

She wasn’t herself when she was hungry.

“Alright, lets move out, shall we?” The raven haired pilot quipped, arching a brow at Mia as she passed, then jerking her head to the street. “You see where they went,” she asked, searching the beach side of the street. There. Hirek stood out like a sore thumb. Gorgeous bastard, her eyes narrowed at him, as the group idled for a moment before slowly moving off down a path adjacent to the street, no doubt to the next stop on the tour.

“We should probably hustle to catch up,” Talia snorted, “I’d rather not get stuck asking for directions – probably end up throwing down again. Testy bunch, these Klingons,” she smirked at Mia, as they set off across the street.

[Luyr’s Cart]

When she’d first approached the rear of the pack, Talia eyed the ‘cart’ with a mix of surprise and confusion. That's a building, not a cart, she’d thought, but her confusion gave way to amused surprised at the sight of Zark, formerly Kali, from the fight night in the holodeck. “I get the feeling we’re gonna make this town famous tonight,” she chuckled, waving at the blue-skinned beauty. “Tag me in if you need a hand,” she laughed, as Zark threw herself into the fray, moving off to the side of the group to charge in if needed.

Duchess seemed to urge caution, which was dutifully ignored, yet the pilot turned to glance and smile at the other Andorian anyway; there was a unique opportunity to see two sides of the same people – one fire and passion, the other calm, reasoning, elegant. For having just met the diplomat, Talia was reasonably sure she liked her already.

She returned her attention to Zark, poised to assist if needed; yet the combat medic triumphed. The pilot winced in sympathy at the bite, however; Ew, fuck, she shook her head, crossing her arms. Fucking Klingons, she grunted, unable to understand the custom. Different strokes for different folks, I guess.

In the aftermath, Talia quietly approached Hirek, pulling his robe from her shoulder to hand to him as she leaned close. “Thanks. You can go ahead and,” her free hand waved at his torso, “put all that away,” she smiled, “or not. Either way works for me,” her eyes grazed over him again before she turned and allowed him to seat her. Soon enough, she had food in front of her and drink in her mug, grinning as Gramps approached with his winnings. Talia arched a brow at Zark, being ministered to by Moody. Hirek’s question made her nose scrunch up – there was a difference to the light, teasing bites she sometimes enjoyed and what poor Zark had suffered. Still, her face flushed, thinking back to what he’d seen and felt back at the bakery.

Yeah, I’m just gonna leave that alone and eat.

So she did, enjoying the food, beverage, and company around her.  With a mouthful of salad, she noticed Sparkles and nodded, dark brows lifting as she gave the woman an 'okay' sign. "Better than looking like a salad," she smirked.

OOC: Sincere apologies for delay. Hope I didn't hold anyone up too long.

[ Lt. JG Nysarisiza “Nysari” zh’Eziarath | D’Takka | Qo’Nos ] Attn: @Ellen Fitz @RyeTanker @Dumedion @Eirual

She did not find it in the least bit amusing. Nor however, did she find it particularly surprising. Nysari’s question had been rhetorical - at least in her mind - but she nodded politely all the same when the chief diplomat decided to answer. Though she would fill out the feedback form, she doubted anything would come of it. Far from a warning label, the Klingons would probably use their dangerous experience as promotional material to entice others to future tours. Nysari accepted that fighting was deeply ingrained in Klingon culture, but it did not mean she wanted to partake.

The salad, when it arrived, actually looked very appetizing. Nysari took a bite, her lips turning upwards in a small pleased smile, before tucking into the meal. It would be nice to have something in her stomach before continuing on the rest of the tour. Hopefully it would help her keep the rest of the evening’s dishes down. She was happy to try any food put before her, but this world hadn’t agreed with her gut so far. That was why she’d gone to sickbay before meeting with the rest of the group.

“The salad is quite nice,” she remarked, deliberately ignoring Hirek’s question. Yes, Nysari had been the recipient of multiple uninvited romantic overtures in her career, most of which had ended with her politely excusing herself and explaining that she was already spoken for. One Ferengi had not been so lucky, having made the unfortunate mistake making a pass while Vyta was on board. Thinking of it now was more than enough to take away her appetite. Though she’d been farther away from them distance wise, this was the first time she’d been completely out of contact with her bondmates. While she was determined to stay loyal to them, Nysari would not have blamed the other three — well, maybe Vyta, a little — if they had their union dissolved. Considering the reproductive crisis on Andoria, she doubted any court would deny them the request. They could not afford to waste time on a defector and a traitor. They would need to replace her with another zhen. Even understanding the logic behind it didn’t stop her heart from breaking at the thought.

“My th’se,” she began, using the Andorian term for the thaan of their bondgroup, “broke a Ferengi’s nose once after he made a less than impressive overture to me.” A frequent visitor to DS9 who made a habit of asking all the female officers to pleasure him, he had insinuated that Nysari’s marriage was irrelevant unless they’d all lived together, without bothering to check that the newly arrived Andorian at her side might in fact be one of the long absent bondmates. Though she had not originally intended to tell this story, Nysari suddenly felt emboldened to do so. Perhaps because of the generous portion of breshanti ale Frank had provided her. Maybe speaking about her family would unburden her soul. At least for tonight.

The diplomat schooled her face, which had turned melancholy for a moment, back to neutral as Kala resurfaced, wearing an ill fitted, unattractive robe meant for supplicants to monasteries. At least the Bajoran was clothed now, and she didn’t seem as distressed by the outfit as Nysari would have been in her place. Talia’s new outfit was also unique. But at least it showed an attempt at style. All and all, the two of them made Nysari grateful that her clothes had survived the bakery unscathed. “Have some salad Lieutenant,” she said, waving Kala to a seat so she wouldn’t invite more stares by standing at the end of the table. “Its delicious.” And who knew how long they’d have to eat it before the next fight broke out?

[Hirek tr’Aimne & Lt. Enyd Isolde Madsen | | D’Takka| Qo’Nos ] Attn: @Dumedion  @RyeTanker  @rae  @Eirual

Enyd glanced at the variety of alcoholic beverages on the table, compliments of Frank, the house, and potentially others as well. Hirek’s question brought a blush to Enyd’s cheeks and she wisely remained silent. More than likely, thanks to the goddess of chaos, she had more stories to share than most sitting around the table. If the tenaciously flippant Romulan hadn’t been there, Enyd might have been keen on sharing a few of those stories, but since it had been Hirek asking and she still had yet to decide on forgiving him completely for shooting her, Enyd took a sip of the first drink she could reach—one of the ale options—and glanced at Zark while a few of the others shared snippets of their stories.

“The bartender has been a bit off this whole time, so uncertain if it has anything to do with us per se or if he’s just waiting for the other shoe to drop.” Enyd inclined her head toward the kitchen where the bartender had disappeared, calling her answer over the table to her pugilist engineering friend. And as for you,” Enyd grinned at the Bajoran, “you missed Zark kicking arse and getting a fan club. But you can enjoy the fruit of her labor in these drinks.”

A plate of salad passed her way and Enyd accepted it gratefully. Her stomach growled, reminding her that this was technically the second stop on their tour, but they’d yet to have anything actually ingested. Pushing the plate in the empty area of the table between herself and Zark, Enyd passed a fork to the Andorian and gave an encouraging smile before digging in. The flavors were well-balanced and surprisingly delicious.

At the end of the table, Hirek accepted his robe from Talia with an eyebrow raised and a smirk. He halfway complied with her suggestion of putting the robe back on, pulling his arms through the sleeves but not securing the ties, making the robe more like a sleeved cape. He bent over Talia’s shoulder to whisper, “I’m sure you’d look delightful wearing nothing but your skin, but this new outfit is also becoming.”

Straightening, Hirek paused long enough to share a playful wink with Talia before returning to his seat. Then, Nysari shared a short memory of a misunderstanding involving a Ferengi. Her expressions were mixed at the end of her tale, and Hirek couldn’t help but be drawn towards curiosity when he noted the brief hint of sadness drift across her features. Since no one else seemed keen on sharing the more shameless experiences of their past—and Hirek had a suspicion either Zark or Enyd had the mountain’s share of stories—he took it upon himself to entertain the group while they enjoyed the relative peace of the pub and ingested the salad while they could before the next round of mayhem moved upon them.

“I was but a recruit serving aboard a scout ship when an uhlan came to my department demanding to know who had overseen the collection of samples we’d taken from; well, those details aren’t so interesting, so I’ll save you from boredom and get right to the point. The uhlan used her positional power to isolate me from the rest of the crew and further worked to intimidate me into performing ih'ghau demhos on her in a supply closet.” Hirek smiled pleasantly as he picked up his teacup, “As a young recruit, I was more than happy to cower in fear of reprimand should I dare to resist her orders. Some years later, aboard a different vessel, I was more than a little surprised and could only feign resistance when her charming husband repeated the same overtures on me when I was his technician.” Hirek winked at Enyd over the rim of his glass, taking a quick sip, then setting the cup aside. “Curious if that’s how they first met.”

Enyd rolled her eyes at Hirek’s outrageous story. She turned to ask Zark a question when she noticed the Nausicaans at the doorway. Her fork clattered against her plate when recognition seized her, Enyd’s gaze immediately moving across the table to Mia. Had the blonde noticed them yet? It would be a very long time before she forgot the image of a very naked Yurdz and an equally nude Grorgei wrestling against Orion bodyguards at the Orion outpost. If those two arse-heads hadn’t tried to rob them in the caverns, Mia, Enyd, and Amanda never would’ve ended up in the Orion lounge and suffered through all the hell that had broken out therein. Enyd’s back straightened, her jaw tightening. She was half tempted to march over to the bar where the Nausicaans now stood, looking as if they were awaiting an order, and give them more than a piece of her mind.

But there was no guarantee that they were not armed or that they did not have friends waiting for them outside. And Enyd certainly didn’t want to bring attention to the fact that not so long before this trip, she’d stripped nearly to her birthday suit to buy time for a rescue at the Orion outpost. She sighed. Grabbing her drink, Enyd tossed the remains back in one gulp, a murderous glare on the backs of the unaware Nausicaans.

[Ens. Mia Dunne | Outside Onok’s Bakery | D’Takka| Qo’Nos]
ATTN: @rae  @Ellen Fitz  @RyeTanker  @Dumedion

Mia had taken a seat across from Enyd. While she accepted the drinks that had been passed around she only sipped at them tentatively. She never was one for imbibing a lot of spirits and this was no exception. She looked around at the assembled group and had to smile as the waif of an engineer entered and Mia had to hold back a smile at how ‘little girl lost’ she appeared in the ill-fitting ceremonial robes.

Conversation moved to a more personal nature, and while Mia had not ever been in that situation, and quike frankly hope never to be the recipient of a bite like the one poor Zark had just received, she stayed quiet, blushing ever so slightly at the stories being shared.

The Salad was placed before her and she took a small portion and moved it to her plate. She had just taken the first mouthful and had nodded in agreement that it was actually quite tasty when a clattering drew her attention across the table.  Mia looked up in time to lock eyes with Enyd. Something in the way she looked made Mia turn around. She froze in place, her fork midway between the salad and her mouth as her eyes widened at the sight of the Nausicaans who had cause so much trouble for her, Enyd and their companion, Amanda not that long ago.

Mia’s eyes watched the backs of the two thugs as she felt herself trembling. From fear or anger she wasn’t sure but she certainly did not want to have another altercation. Especially not here, in front of crewmates she barely knew.

Mia pulled her eyes back to Enyd and whispered, “Don’t draw their attention, Please! Dealing with them once was enough!”

[Lt (JG) XamotZark zh’Ptrell (Lt. Zark) | Luyr’s Cart | First City | Qo'nos]

@Ellen Fitz @rae @Dumedion @Eirual

Zark removed her gloves and pushed them into the back of her pants, then stayed still as Enyd worked the the dermal regenerator over her various cuts and bruises, and though her friend had managed to take care of the surface damage, an internal evaluation by tongue and finger caused her to wince here and there. Stupid horny Klingon's who can't take no for an answer The Zhen mentally complained.  When Enyd had declared her exterior complete, the medic smiled, somewhat painfully, and gave the human's hand a squeeze before taking the device, making a few adjustments after asking for a translation here and there of the Klingon, then began working everything the diplomat hadn't gotten to.  At a couple points, it looked a little odd as she almost jammed the device up her nose to get a break inside, then opened her mouth and for a moment, looked like she was sucking on the thing.  This took longer than expected, and by the time drinks and salad arrived, the medico was pretty sure she had gotten the majority of the issues.  At least it was enough, that there shouldn't be any bruises.  While she worked, she listened in on what the others were saying, managing to groan out some sort of agreement with Enyd on why the bartender looked disturbed, though she was pretty sure he was terrified of the blue woman going for his family jewels as well.  She didn't much care for what the Romulan wanted to talk about, especially since she had just been on the receiving end.  By contrast, she sympathized immensely with Nysari since the response was fairly typical to uninvited interlopers in a bond.

Zark eyed the steaming metal cup with intense suspicion.  She'd heard of the drink though she couldn't pronounce it, and what it could do.  The only reference to it's actual effect was a report she'd remembered reading about how Madsen had drunk two of them and became visibly drunk afterwards.  Having first hand experience of her friend's alcohol tolerance, anything that could knock Enyd on her ass drunk was not something to be trifled with.  Smiling at Talia, the Andorian decided to take some salad and some rolls first, if nothing else than to provide some sort of bulk to block off the alcohol absorption.  Thankfully, and plate of flame roasted Klingon octopus was dropped on the table and the Andorian grabbed several pieces of protein.  Her jaw was still sore, so it took a little working before she felt she was ready to chew.  Spearing a piece of seafood, Zark was about to put it in her mouth when she heard a clatter beside her and looked to see Enyd in a near fury.

The combat medic's eyes widened in alarm and she began looking around, just in time to see Mia turn around with an opposite look of fear in her eyes that was no less intense.  While Mia pleaded for Enyd to not attract attention, Zark quietly had to agree.  They were on the planet to have fun, not start fights.  Zark quickly took a sip of the proffered ale to help wet her throat before eating. Pickup up her fork with the piece on it seafood, the blue woman sighed as Enyd continued to try to shoot phasers out of her eyes at the Nausicans.  The Zhen grabbed the human diplomat by the jaw and twisted her head so blue-green eyes could look into green ones.  Zark had a smile on her face though it went no where near her eyes.  "Enyd.  The place has had one fight already, let's not start another despite how much it would amuse the owners."  Zark was pretty sure if she dug into her mind enough, she would make the story connections, but her main goal was to make sure the group didn't attract any extra attention, so Zark jammed the octopus slice in the human's maw and forced her to start chewing while she tried to talk her friend down from her towering rage. "I'll fight them if we have to, but let's give everyone a chance to enjoy their meals first okay?"  This time, the smile did reach her eyes as she let go of Enyd's head and settled down to eat, while pointing at the human's salad plate and subtly trying to avoid drinking the cup of steaming liquid.

[Lt. Rhys Williams | Transporter Room 3 | Deck 12 | USS Theurgy ] attn: @Ellen Fitz @rae @Dumedion @Eirual @RyeTanker

Rhys was growing increasingly surprised at himself. The young Welshman had struggled with his mental health most of his life, he knew that symptoms could manifest in all sorts of unusual ways. He had had nervous breakdowns, manic episodes, panic attacks, bouts of serious depression just to name a few. He had wondered if he had been suffering from one recently, though the symptoms were unlike anything he had felt before. Since Stellan had been injured and gone into cryo sleep a series of bizarre changes had taken place.

Rhys had voices in his head, often they were hateful, whispering cruel truths and untruths, they had made him cautious and frightened of socialising. A new one however had begun to appear. It was encouraging, constantly egging him on to do things he would not normally do. Its almost as if it was constantly saying “Go on…. Why not…. Go for it.” As a result, Rhys had found himself going to social events parties and a like. He had even attended the Birthday party of a member of the crew he did not know at all. Granted Rhys had stood awkwardly at the edge of the party being his usual self, but it was a big step forward.

That wasn’t all, he blushed to even think about this. After one party he had ended up sleeping with his friend, and fellow survivor of the USS Cayuga, and then he had acted very unprofessionally with an alluring Romulan Hirek he had meant to be assessing. He wondered if this was a kind of nervous breakdown, Rhys was not a risk taker by nature but he found himself saying yes more and more to things. Rhys had always been attracted to Zark, but he had been afraid of ruining a valued friendship, and Hirek well that was different. He knew what he should have done with him, send him out of his office with a flea in his ear no instead after some gentle coaxing… his face went red at the thought has he walked to the transporter pad.


Now he was going on a culinary Tour of Q’onos. Rhys didn’t dislike Klingons, but he was petrified by them. Everything about their culture seemed like the anthesis of his personality. The hyper combative and competitive nature of it all. They confused him, with how at one moment they could go from threatening grievous bodily harm to one another only to dissolve into to comradely laughter the next moment. They reminded him of some of they guys he had played Rugby with.

Going on a tour of Klingon eateries was the last thing he would have imagined himself doing, but that voice was in action again. In fact, he had waited so long judging if he felt like going he was running quite late and would have to catch up with them at their second location.

Unaware of who was going to be down there he took a transporter down.

[Lt. Rhys Williams | D’Takka| Qo’Nos ]

Once he was down, Rhys found himself on a street with an array of interesting and some disturbing sights, sounds and smells. He looked around to see if there was anyone he recognised. He had no desire to be caught on the street on his own, however it was hard to say with so many people around.

[ Kelistina (Kel) Kavot Droda | D’Takka |Qo’noS ]
Attn: : @Ellen Fitz  @rae  @Dumedion  @RyeTanker  @Juzzie


Kel was feeling sad and alone. After the destruction of her home and finding herself alone for so many years she had begun to wonder if she would ever find a place to call home. It certainly wasn’t the planet she currently found herself stranded on. The natives on this planet had been rather unwelcoming. It was not that she wanted to be here either. Some storm in space had caused her small ship to malfunction and she had managed not to kill herself when the ship had crashed on the surface of this hostile location. She was beginning to think that even with her years of apprenticeship she did not know enough to get the shuttle back into space. She also did not have spare parts and had begun to try to find whatever she could to affect repairs.  She disliked the planet and was more than uncomfortable with the natives. But she needed to fix her ship, so she had walked to the village despite her reluctance to deal with the natives and their strange and often unpleasant ways.

Kelistina walked through the market area searching for yet another piece of equipment that she could use to fix her ship. But so far she had not found anything that would work. She was crouching again so her 7’3” frame would be less intimidating. She’d learned rather painfully that the natives on this planet were less than friendly to someone taller than they were. She could feel their suspicious eyes watching her as she moved through the market, attempting to make herself look smaller.

A crash nearby made her turn to see a blue skinned being jump back to its feet and take off its jacket and hand it to a smaller pink skinned being before it reentered what Kel had learned was an eating establishment. She watched in curiosity and amazement as several other non-native beings gathered near the entrance where the blue creature had sprinted. The fact that these other beings did not immediately jump into the fight gave her some hope that this world was not all filled with angry ‘klinoez’ which was what she thought the natives were called.

Soon the other beings entered the eatery and everything went back to normal for this planet. Kel wandered over to the broken window to watch the beings for a moment. She could not help but smile at the assembled group of what to her appeared to be a more friendly and peaceful sort than the Klinoez.

She heard a shout of “P’taQ” from behind her and something hit her in the back, making her stumble forward and into the eatery. Having to stay hunched over unless she wanted to smash her head against the door made keeping her balance more difficult and she ended up falling and actually knocking into the chair of one of the beings.

“Droka,” she said quietly as she tried to offer an apology to group as she struggled to rise from the floor, “da ed gotheb.”

---

Droka - Apologies 
Da ed gotheb - I not fighting you

[Sochk, Nausicaan mercenary | | D’Takka| Qo’Nos ] Attn: @Dumedion  @RyeTanker @rae  @Eirual  @Juzzie

“Fuckers titties in a nutsack.” Sochk snarled at the Ferengi entourage she barreled through. Ferengi were always a fucking nightmare to deal with, but naked female Ferengi turned her stomach sour almost as quickly as naked Klingon women. The noblewoman snorted in disdain after Sochk’s imposing form, but this only earned a tusked smile from the mercenary as she continued on her way.

Glancing across the road, Sochk saw what was left of the bakery and cursed again. If Grorgei and Yurdz fucked up one more time, Sochk didn’t care how many lashes she’d receive from her uncle for it, but she was determined to break every bone in their body and then rebreak them again once they healed. These fuckers had already shamed them at the Orion outpost earlier in the week, making it harder than ever to secure jobs since everyone in the underworld on Qo’Nos knew they were associated with Lhung’s gang.

They’d been given a damn simple job this time, that of food gathering, which one presumed was straightforward and with no reason for them to take so damn long. They were most likely going to run into a fight behind Vok’ey’s tavern later, and if—when—that happened, they’d need all the energy they could get. Which was the whole damn point of sending these two idiots to get food for the gang so they could have a good meal before the drop.

Further down the street, Sochk heard the telltale sounds of a fight. Moving towards where she just knew she’d find her cousins, Sochk just about ran over a human standing alone in the street. She was already muttering a few more colorful terms she’d learned on a job not long ago, “Fucking knobheaded ballsack-brained bitch-ass ninnies.” Not bothering to apologize, not that it was in her nature to apologize for shit, Sochk barreled her way toward the eatery further down the street. If her cousins were in the middle of this fuckery, she was going to murder them.

[ Yurdz and Grorgei, hungry and disgruntled Nausicaan mercenaries ]

“Fuck,” Grorgei smacked the back of his hand against the back of Yurdz’ shoulder, “that bitch is tall.”

Yurdz glanced over his shoulder, expecting to see a burly Klingon woman. But his eyes widened when he spied an alien of much taller but lither proportions than Klingon or Nausicaan alike. She wasn’t bad on the eyes, but from her mannerisms and how, despite her height, she seemed apologetic for her existence, Yurdz knew she would survive a minute among his kin. He snorted in agreement to Grorgei’s comment and turned to face the bar again, but stopped. The tall bitch had fallen against a long table where several offworlders sat eating. While seeing fellow offworlders wasn’t a surprise to Yurdz, the presence of two women in particular had his blood boiling.

“Recognize anyone over there, Grorgei?” It was his turn to smack his hand against Grorgei’s shoulder, nodding toward the table where the tall alien woman now hovered, speaking in her strange tongue to the offworlders.

Grorgei let out a slew of curses at his side, earning a slow nod from Yurdz. Things had gone south for all of them back at the Orion outpost. While those Federation bitches still had their jobs, and their friends and standing amongst their people, Yurdz and Grorgei had been taken down more than a few notches in their circles. There were now hanging by a thread to their livelihood.

“Hey,” the proprietor called their attention, “the last of the salads been served. You’ll have to order something else or go elsewhere for a salad if you’re determined for one.”

Yurdz slowly drew a breath in through his nose before speaking, “Who got the last of the salad?”

The proprietor said nothing, but a quick eye dart toward the Federation bitch gathering was enough. Yurdz knew they wouldn’t be able to do a thing while the proprietor watched, so he made a quick decision.

“We’ll take your house stew.” He heard Grorgei shift at his side but gave a quick headshake, waiting until the proprietor slunk back into the kitchen before he turned away from the bar and smiled at the group of offworlders. “We can serve our own salad in the meantime.”

[ Lt. JG Nysarisiza “Nysari” zh’Eziarath | D’Takka | Qo’Nos ] Attn: @Ellen Fitz @Eirual @Dumedion @RyeTanker @Juzzie

Aside from Hirek, who seemed very open with everything in a manner that lead Nysari to believe that he was telling them absolutely nothing of importance about himself, the others had no embarrassing stories to tell. That was hardly surprising. People who hardly knew each other weren’t about to spill their secrets during a whirlwind tour of the town. Especially not to work colleagues who lived together on a starship.

In between small bites of salad, Nysari let her gaze wander among the ever growing group of officers instead. They had done a remarkable job of settling back into a relaxed tourist group after the disastrous bakery stop. Except, apparently, Mia. The blonde human had struck her as uncomfortable since the group had formed in the Theurgy’s transporter room, but now her stress had a defined source. She considered for a moment that it might be a general fear of nausicaans, a species that had garnered themselves quite a reputation — one that made a mark even on the Klingon homeworld. But Enyd also had an apparent reaction to them, and the chief diplomat was far less skiddish than the scientist.

“Is everything alrigh-” she started to ask, but was cut off when something or someone crashed into her. For the second time tonight, the world seemed to tilt on it’s axis as Nysari was unceremoniously dumped onto the floor, the breath meant for her question escaping her lungs in a gasp. At least this time it wasn’t a Klingon who had fallen on her, which could be counted as a small blessing. The weight wasn’t near as suffocating. Unfortunately, the blessing was lost on the reaggravated bruises on her rear. She could have sworn that she hadn’t included a target on her dress, but fate wanted one there anyway.

Since the whole eatery hadn’t dissolved into yet another chaotic battlefield, Nysari hoped this was a one off incident. “Ow,” the quiet utterance was the only outlet she allowed for her frustration. Untangling herself from the legs of her chair, she pulled herself up by the ledge of the table, finally turning to see who had knocked her over. Though turning itself wasn’t enough, since she then had to look up, and up some more. Her first thought was that the newcomer was Thallonian, but the theory was quickly discarded by the dermal markings and purple hair. Even slightly hunched, she was tall, enough to get the Klingons’ attention, though her frame was far less stocky. The species was completely unknown to her. The mystery peaked her interest enough that she forgot to be annoyed at the alien for bumping into her. Diplomats spent their lives studying alien cultures. Finding one she didn’t know was fascinating. Even more so was finding one the universal translator didn’t recognize, hearing words that meant nothing to her.

“It’s fine. No harm done.” She chose to believe the alien was apologizing, based on the tone. Linguistics being what they were, the alien could have been saying anything. “Could you speak more? The translator needs a bigger sample size before it can function.” As she spoke, Nysari moved her fingers to her lips, then let her fingers splay out as though the words pushed them open, indicating talking.

Behind their new guest, she spotted more newcomers to their table. Decidedly unwelcome ones. “Lieutenant,” she smiled reassuringly at the alien before turning her attention to Enyd for a moment. “Is there something we should know about those nausicaans? Because they are on their way over. They do not look pleased.” Nausicaans rarely did. It would be more worrisome if they did.

[Ens. Talia "Shadow" Al-Ibrahim | D’Takka | Qo’Nos] Attn: @RyeTanker @Eirual @Juzzie @Ellen Fitz @rae
[Show/Hide]After returning a smirk at Pretty-Eyes while running a hand through her slightly frayed hair, (she'd debated undoing the braid altogether, after the Bakery debacle, but decided to wait), Talia had dug into her salad while eyeing all the drinks. Should probably stick to water, the pilot told herself, not trusting herself to act right in the current circumstances, given her history with alcohol. Last thing she needed was to get drunk and end up in another tight spot with people she barely knew. Problem was, there didn’t seem to be any, and there where too many unknowns about the nutritional values in the juice. Shit, she chewed her lip, debating with herself whether to risk it or not.

Hirek's story gave her pause, as all kinds of questions bounced through her mind; each one growing slightly more inappropriate than the first. She assumed it was some form of sexual act, obviously, but was that commonplace? Did he enjoy it? Was he any good at it? What were the details? If there was any truth to the tale – which she took on face value, given what she knew of the Romulan thus far – Talia couldn’t tell. Based off Moody's reaction, she assumed it was just his way of fucking with people; the pilot’s brows rose slightly as she chewed on some salad, amused at the exchange. This guy is either completely full of himself, or shit, or both, she chuckled quietly. Ah, you gorgeous ass. So many red flags wrapped up in a sexy package. That didn’t stop her imagination from kicking in, however briefly, before the appearance of what she really wanted was placed on the table.

Protein.

With a grin at Zark, Talia speared some octopus with a fork and a needy grumble from her throat. Fuck yes, she nearly sighed with relief. It wasn’t her preferred choice, but she wasn’t about to turn it down by any means. Stuffing a tentacle in her mouth without ceremony, the Wolf’s eyes rolled closed as she chewed with a satisfied groan, even if it tasted a bit spicier than she’d expected. Really need some water, she realized, searching the table again, but settled for some na’an juice – which was surprisingly good, so she chugged it greedily. Then she remembered there were other people around and blushed slightly at her table manners, but no one seemed to notice. Fuck it, I’m hungry. Better eat before something else crazy happens, the pilot told herself as she wiped her mouth on the back of one hand and stuffed another tentacle in.

From where she was seated between Skiddish and Sparkles, with Pretty-Eyes at the end of the table, her ears didn’t catch the quiet exchange between Kali and Moody, but her eyes did. Shadow smirked, understanding how handsy Zark could be; but didn’t react further. It was a cute and endearing exchange, so her eyes kept moving, glancing at Skiddish, who looked stiff as a board. Shit, now what, the Wolf arched a brow, and looked in the direction the blonde seemed fixated on. Then something robed and red fell on poor Duchess with a muffled oomph and customary rattling of chairs, table, dishes and cups. Her heavy iron mug didn’t move though.

Talia swallowed her mouthful of octopus and got to her feet, moving to assist the fallen alien on instinct, brows knit in concern. “Shit, thought I was having a bad night,” she murmured, amused at Duchess’ habit for being used as a mattress, then extended a hand and helped the newcomer up. Her eyes followed the being up, until she was towering over the pilot. Damn, Talia blinked, looking up at her, surprised at how tall she was, listening to the exchange between everyone. Where’d you come from, Shadow wondered, interested to hear her story, but more interested in why she’d crash-landed in on the party.

An angry, growling Klingon voice barked something then, from behind the red-skinned female; unmistakably male. Talia moved to the side, to get a look at him. He looked like a merchant, based off the deep orange robes over the usual Klingon leather, pointing a chubby digit at the alien, snarling more words in chopped Klingon; all fangs and spittle. Shadow rolled her eyes, frowning. Here we go again, she grumbled, reaching back to secure her mug.

“Anybody catch that,” she deadpanned to the group, then noticed the mood had shifted with the approach of two equally ugly and suspicious-looking Nausicaans from the other side of the table. Her head snapped back and forth between them and the Klingon merchant, who was standing there with his arms crossed, looking quite indignant. “Well, this’ll be interesting,” the pilot sighed to herself, then leaned over the table to Kali, Moody and Gramps, jerking a thumb at the merchant. “Dibs on Mr. Shovenstuff,” she whispered with a smirk, not bothering to look in Pretty‐Eye’s direction; between the drama unfolding and the view she was offering the Romulan, Talia could feel the amusement pouring off him already. Shrugging at their expressions, she added, “What? You know, if it comes to it – just saying.”

She’d give them the opportunity to employ diplomacy – but had never had any patience for bullies. The Wolf glanced over her shoulder, brows knit at the Klingon. Fucker needs an attitude adjustment, she thought, as the grip on her mug tightened. Then her eyes met with a very uncomfortable but cute looking human male, idling in the middle of the street like a poor lost puppy. Her face relaxed into a grin, still looking over her shoulder. Hello handsome. “Please – tell me he’s one of ours,” she asked aloud with a chuckle, which disappeared as the Klingon grunted and flexed at her. Talia rotated her body to face him, pushing off the table to flex right back, and gave him her best fuck-around-and-find-out look.

[ Lieutenant Frank Arnold & Lt JG Kala Marika | Luyr’s Cart, D’Takka | Qo’Nos ]  

Attn: @Ellen Fitz @Dumedion @rae @Eirual @Juzzie

Frank had been happily sipping on his Ale and eating the bounty that he was finally allowed to have.  The salad was good and the arrival of Octopus was a delight.  Smoked and spicy, the flavour combinations were amazing.  Things were starting to look up and the bearded engineer leaned back on his chair as he tipped back a glass of the amber liquid and sipped away.  String bean looked like she was in ecstasy at finally getting from food into her system, and the situation seemed to be finally settling into a proper tourist mode.  Looking at his assistant, he was taken aback for a moment as she pounded back her cup in one gulp and poured herself another.  "Whao Marika. Easy there. The night's young."  The blonde turned to her boss for a moment and looked a little embarrassed. "I ummmm, yes sir."  Frank wanted to tell her to call him Frank while they were off duty when there was a crash and Nysari was suddenly on the floor as the table rattled.  The Chief blinked at this sudden turn of events and wondered how the diplomat had suddenly ended up on the floor again.  Zark also turned to see who the newcomer was and everyone began to crane their necks as they looked up, a lot.  Nysari was soon trying to console the poor creature whom nobody understood , and Frank blew out some air as he figured it was best to the diplomats to sort this out.  Communicating with new encounters was part and parcel of their job. 

Frank noticed a sudden presence next to Marika, though it seemed to be more directed at Mia of all people.  He'd missed the earlier conversation between the scientist and head diplomat, but looking around, he noticed that Mia seemed even more distraught than before and Enyd was determined to visually flay the newcomers.  Talia leaned over to pass a word to Zark as the Andorian began rubbing her temples as if she'd just picked up a major migraine.  One of them ended up behind Zark while another sat down heavily next to Mia and began running his hands through her hair. "Well, if it isn't the stripper bitch." The one behind the Andorian opened with a sneer.  For a moment, Frank thought he was talking about the security officer, but the words were bewildwringly directed at Enyd!  What in the hell is going on? The Engineer thought to himself and Marika looked equally confused and her eyes were wide with a mouth full of unchewed food as Mia was being accosted.  Enyd didn't appear to appreciate the response as the thug leaned on the Andorian who almost had her blue face pushed into the plate under the weight.  Whatever Zark thought of this, was evident as her antennae flipped back and forth really quickly and tried to settle against her hair. Standing Ugly poked Enyd in the head and pushed it back. "You owe me for last time and I'm going to collect.  Hey blue, move, I have business to discuss with the bitch here."  Frank was aghast at what was happening and was going to tell the son of a bitches to leave when he was cut off by a cold flat "No."  Standing Ugly's attention turned to his arm rest and he grabbed the back of her head to push it into the salad.  Frank stood and pushed his chair back at this point. "That's enough.  You're not welcome here.  Whatever business you had is over done with. Get lost"  Standing Ugly looked at the new challenge and smiled.  Sitting Ugly stopped copping a feel of Mia and stood up as well making the Chief very aware he was being flanked.  "I wasn't talking to you and if you know what's good for you, stay out of it." Frank snorted at the threat. "You're welcome to try and make me.  We can step outside right now and deal with this." Frank was too busy drawing attention he didn't notice that Zark had gotten her head up and looked around with a lingering look at Mia to guage the situation.  "It's okay Chief, I'll move."  Zark said quietly and Frank's eyes widened at the Andorian.  He must have heard wrong, or she was way more hurt than she was showing. 

"There. You see, a reasonable one."  Standing Ugly told Frank as he grabbed the smaller woman and tossed her on the ground with a rattle as cutlery and cups followed.  Frank was suddenly struck by indecision, especially when Zark made a motion to Talia to stay put.  Frank stood glaring with his nostrils flaring since it appeared that Zark was willing to acquiesce.  While Standing ugly took her seat and began trying to grope Enyd's chest. Sitting ugly dropped himself back down and was preparing to do the same to the blonde scientist "You should be more like your friend here." Standing Ugly told Enyd, completely enraptured with the power he had in the situation. This was too much and the Engineer leaned forward and planted his fists on the table to get in the Nausicaan's face.  "Last warning. Get. Out."  Standing ugly turned to face Frank. "And how are you going to do that?" Zark loomed up and was suddenly standing behind the thug. "Like this."  A blue hand smashed an iron mug on the back the Nausicaan's head with hollow metal ringing out one, two, three times and the thug suddenly grunting in pain at the unexpected assault.  Sitting ugly stopped trying to fondle Mia and stared as his buddy was getting his head bashed in, then Frank decided now was better than never and clocked him in the face with a haymaker that knocked him off his chair.  Frank quickly moved to get Mia and Marika out of the way, then suddenly Talia was on him and physically expressing her displeasure.

Frank turned back to see Zark finish kicking the legs out from under Standing Ugly forcing him to his knees while banging his chin in the table that elicited a grunt of pain.  The restaurant suddenly roared in approval as it appeared another fight had broken out and from the same group!  Zark face was a mask of Arctic fury as she pulled her Ugly back by the hair and drove her fist into the cheek, eliciting more cheers. As she let go, his head to crashed into the table with a grunt and spangled vision.  Time felt like it slowed down as Frank watched the Andorian grab the thug's head again and let fly with her fist into the side of his head, splitting his cheek.  Then it happened as the Nausicaan was groggy.  Zark laid his hand out on the able and grabbed the knife from the octopus dish and before he could stop her, drove the knife into the back of his hand and pinned it to the table.  The Nausicaan let out a roar of animal pain and rage, but couldn't get his hand out as it began to slice him the more he struggled. Laughter rang out throughout the restaurant at the stuck thug's predicament and the sound of money being exchanged could be heard.  Frank stared at Zark in disbelief at her deliberate brutality and immediately decided he was very thankful she was on his side and normally a very nice happy person.  Zark blew some loose hair out of the way and turned to Enyd.  "Enyd, he wants to talk to you. Lemme know when I can sit again." With that, Zark moved to the other side of injured thug before stopping to look at the other Andorian in the group a little embarrassed.  "Uhmm, Sorry Nysari, could you move over a bit. Thanks." It was an amazingly civil display after one so ferocious and the shapely Andorian planted her posterior on the edge of the table and grabbed a piece of octopus before popping in her mouth to watch the discussion.

Frank would turn to where Talia was and decided to intervene.  "Talia. Talia!! I think you can stop now, he's totally KO'd"

[ Kelistina (Kel) Kavot Droda | D’Takka |Qo’noS ]
Attn: : @Ellen Fitz  @rae  @Dumedion  @RyeTanker  @Juzzie

Kel was surprised by the hand that was offered to help her to her feet but accepted it and stood as much as she could in the confines of the building. The one she had fallen into was speaking but Kel could not understand. The offworlder made a gesture with her hands that seemed to be asking her to speak more. Kelistina bowed her head slightly , “Ei Kelistina, Ca Kavot neDroda.” She placed a hand over her heart, which to them would look like her stomach and then to her head and then out, palm up, “alortinatza ni dlotaz.” Her attention was drawn to two very unpleasant beings that walked to the table where this being’s comrades were seated. It did not appear to Kel that they were welcome guests. And they were not very nice to them. Kelistina did not know what to do, or if her help would even be appreciated. She once tried to stop a fight between two of the Klin-onz and had ended up being attacked by both and chased away. It also didn’t help that one of those Kin-onz was standing behind her and was likely the one that had given her a shove into the building in the first place.  Before she could figure out what to do, the blue skinned one had begun to smash a ‘solat’ against the head of one of the unpleasant aliens.

---

OCC:
Ei Kelistina, Ca Kavot neDroda. - I be Kelistina, out of Kavot in Droda
alortinatza ni dlotaz - Much honor from the family (or... From I)
Solat - drinking vessel (tankard)

---

[Ens. Mia Dunne ]

Mia has sat frozen in her seat by the proximity of the Naussicans. But when a commotion at the end of that table drew her attention she was in awe of the being that was being helped back to its feet. She had never see anything quite so tall, although she’d heard some species that did. From what she knew about them, this being was not any of those. She was intreigued and almost forgot about the other threat. That is until she saw the two Naussicans heading straight for the table, one moving to Enyd’s side and one coming near her. Mia stiffened as the Naussican ran his fingers through her hair and tried to shift away. Then it sat down, pushing into a seat next to her and his hands began to grope at her chest. Mia tried to fend him off by pulling her arms to cover herself and turning her back to the horrid beast. She was afraid of doing something that would bring the ire of the Orion syndicate back onto them. She closed her eyes and tried to just keep the groping to a minimum.

All of a sudden, Zark made her move and the hands that had been painfully grabbing at her were suddenly gone. Before she could even blink, Frank was pulling her away from the table and then she heard one of their attacker howl in pain. Mia stopped and looked over, seeing the knife imbedded in the table through the first Nassican’s hand. And still the very large alien was looking around them all in either confusion or fear. Mia wasn’t quite sure which since she was unfamiliar with this species.

The Klingons were at it again with their bets and laughing about the fight. Mia just could not understand why they always thought this was amusing, but she was getting tired of getting into brawls, and this was only the second place on the tour. And add to that she had barely had anything to eat before the mayhem started. “The way things are going here I am either going to get killed, or just starve to death on this culinary tour,” She said with a pointed look at Enyd.

[Lt. Rhys Williams | D’Takka| Qo’Nos ] attn: @Eirual @RyeTanker @rae @Dumedion @RyeTanker @Ellen Fitz

It hadn’t taken long for Rhys to start thinking that his coming to the surface might have been a bad idea. In quick succession he had been barrelled over nearly by an angry Naussican using colourful pejoratives. There was an alien who he did not recognise who seemed as bewildered and frightened as he was.

The Naussicans had charged down the street towards the eatery that Rhys had heard the tour would be stopping at. Rhys followed slowly hoping not to draw their or indeed anyone else’s attention. As he approached, he heard the sounds of an argument followed by sounds of violence. Much to his horror he heard Zark’s voice.

She was a tough woman; Rhys knew that for sure. However, he worried for her considering how large those Naussicans had looked. He burst through the entrance way only to find that Zark had dealt with her opponents with a terrifying ease, one was pinned to the table by his hand and howling in pain. He felt a little bit sill, however it seemed for the moment he was still mostly unnoticed by the patrons.

Rhys cleared his throat in the most awkward and excessively polite way possible. So much so that no one noticed initially. Rhys spoke again his voice was lost in the quiet. He heard the voice of confidence in his head push him firmly. “Um… Hi. Is… this the right place… you know… do the culinary…er…food…tour…thing?” He said his cheeks going a rather lovely shade of read as he spoke.

[ Kelistina (Kel) Kavot Droda | D’Takka |Qo’noS ]
Attn: : @Ellen Fitz  @rae  @Dumedion  @RyeTanker  @Juzzie

Kelistina was not sure what to do. She smiled slightly, which, to those at the table, may not have looked overly friendly. She once again bowed slightly to the off worlder that had helped her. “Ka droka Ni’hoto da.” She looked at the newcomer warily.  While he spoke with a quieter voice, she still began to back up from the crowd.  Ducking her head down further she turned to head for the door. She had met the off-worlders and now she wasn’t sure what to think. Some of them were violent, like the Klin-onz. But some seemed to be more like her, more peaceful.

In the long run, she mused to herself, it mattered very little. They would be gone like all the others and she still had to fix her ship. Just another day or two and she could leave this place and maybe find someplace better. Kel bowed again as she backed up fearing she had already overstayed her 'welcome'.  She looked again at the one who helped her and even spoke to her, “harat meda sla!”

---

Ka droka Ni’hoto da -  Many apologies for problems from me. (Sorry for the trouble I’ve caused.)
harat meda sla - May you have the blessings of the elders

[Hiriek tr’Aimne | D’Takka | Qo’Nos ] Attn: @Dumedion  @RyeTanker  @rae  @Eirual @Juzzie

The abrupt arrival of the beautiful giantess had Hirek pushing back from the table to avoid having any food or beverage land in his lap. He wasn’t particularly worried about his wardrobe at this point, but he would still rather not wear more food during this adventure. Standing just to the side of the much-taller red-skinned woman, Hirek lazily brushed his hands over his torso and the tops of his thighs. There were some residual pieces left over from their last foray. Best to “clear the table” before another round took place. As Nysari sought to draw the alien woman into conversation, the universal translater having done nothing for any of them—thus further proving this woman’s outside-of-the-Federation status—Talia’s remarks had Hirek’s gaze moving further down the table.

He saw the tension in Enyd’s shoulders as the Nausicaan mercenaries made a general nuisance of themselves. The way they acted, especially towards Mia, had Hirek supposing this was an untimely renewed acquaintance. Zark stood and made room for one of the Nausicaans to sit, and that was when, in his peripherals, Hirek saw movement near the door. First, he spied Rhys. Hirek’s lips drew back in a smile as he felt an immediate spark of warm desire in his belly at the memory of their counseling session. Then, looking past Rhys, he saw another Nausicaan hovering near the door. An angry female one who took in the ensuing violence now happening between Zark and one Nausicaan and Talia and another with a snarling frown.

For whatever effort Nysari attempted, as the angry Nausicaan female began to barrel her way towards their table, the alien woman turned away from the Andorian diplomat to make for the door, her voice denoting apologies. Hirek reached out first to snag the elbow of the alien. Using the hold on her elbow, Hirek both pulled her back towards him as he stepped forward. Though tall, she was light—likely due to her svelte build—and it was with little difficulty that he managed to jerk her out of the Nausicaan’s path. Rhys was next, standing close to where the alien had been and still very much in the angry woman’s path. Letting go of the alien woman’s elbow as he slid past, Hirek reached out and grabbed Rhys’ wrist. He tugged the man off balance, the intention for the Welshman to stumble out of harm’s way from the fuming Nausicaan. With Rhys and the alien out of the way, Hirek paused just long enough to wink at Rhys before shifting forward again, this time planting himself directly in the Nausicaan’s way.

“Are you a friend of theirs?” He did not take his eyes off the taller and more powerfully built mercenary female, even when he heard the howling yowls of pain coming from the ones who’d been facing off with Zark and Talia.

She snorted, fisted hands coming across her chest, her arms folding. “I’m a colleague. And I’ve come to collect them. What business do they have with you?” As angry as she appeared, the woman did not seem as inclined toward violence.

“I don’t much know. Perhaps a disagreement on food. That seems to be a trend this evening.” Hirek shifted out of the woman’s way. “If you’re here to collect, by all means, collect. In fact,” he moved to stand beside her as she resumed her prowl towards her colleagues, “I’ll be happy to help.”

[Sochk, Nausicaan mercenary | D’Takka| Qo’Nos ]

Grorgei was on the floor, barely conscious, thanks to the repeated attacks from a metal tankard wielded by a dark-haired human. Sochk rolled her eyes when his one good eye, not presently swollen shut, caught sight of her. Even with his present pain, Sochk took pleasure in seeing his body shiver with a new sense of dread. He knew what it meant to see her here. Sochk’s gaze moved to the table. If this Andorian fighter wasn’t employed, they could use someone with her brutal problem-solving skills. Yurdz was as docile as a Nausicaan baby now, his hand pinned to the table, his face bleeding from various cuts.

Looking past the table briefly, Sochk noted another large human, bearded like the Romulan beside her, who looked equally capable of brutality as the Andorian female panting next to the beaten Yurdz. Sochk held up a hand, palm forward.

“I don’t know what these dimwit fuckers said or did, and I don’t fucking care, but they’re my colleagues, and I’ve come to collect them.” She nodded to the knife in Yurdz’ hand. “There will be no further inconvenience and no further violence necessary if you let me take these shit suckers now.”

[Lt. Enyd Isolde Madsen | D’Takka | Qo’Nos ]

Enyd had never been given a chance to diffuse the situation before it exploded into a bloody mess. From the moment she’d seen the pair of Nausicaan mercenaries and hoped to remain unseen by them in return to this very moment, with their supposed colleague demanding their immediate departure, which meant Zark needed to take out the knife pinning the man’s hand to the table, Enyd had barely had time to do much more than push aside her cutlery and grip the table. To join the fight or flee, she still didn’t know which one she’d been aiming for, but now she’d never know.

“Here, I’ll help.” Hirek’s honeyed lilt had Enyd jerking back, eyes wide, when he reached forward and effortlessly pulled Zark’s knife out of the Nausicaan’s hand.

The Nausicaan screeched in pain, immediately pulling the wounded appendage in toward his chest and snarling first at Hirek, and then at Enyd. Despite the pain and the obvious numbers against him, the man still looked keen on reaching across the table to rip out Enyd’s throat. Even though she’d not even raised a hand against him, this time or back at the outpost, he was determined to blame her for his misery. Similar to Mia, it seemed. And L’Nari. Perhaps even Amanda. Enyd had merely to sit at a table, and all hell broke loose.

“Yurdz,” the Nausicaan female growled at the wounded man, “Grorgei,” her gaze moved to the man Talia had been hammering on with her tankard souvenir, “stop holding your dicks and let’s go. We have work to do, and everyone is fucking hungry.” Enyd saw the woman’s eyes travel over the length of both men’s forms, her lips pulling down into a feral snarl. “Where the fuck is the food, you oily nutsacks?”

A streak of blue had Enyd looking over just in time to see Marika come back from the bar, holding a set of bags and satchels. She held it out for to the Nausicaan woman much like the ancients might’ve held out a sacrifice to the gods. It seemed the woman had noticed some details the rest had overlooked. Good for her and good for them. Instead of nodding her thanks to Marika, the Nausicaan woman looked through the bags and then glared at both of her colleagues.

“Salad.” It wasn’t a question but an accusation and Enyd watched as both Nausicaan men winced in response.

Enyd realized then that it had been because of the salad that they’d noticed them. And now, based on the woman’s glare moving back across the table to rest on Enyd, it seemed they were going to get into another bout of violence over a bit of greens…

“Here you go.”

Both Enyd and the Nausicaan female flinched in surprise when a rolled-up tunic was placed in Nausicaan’s arms. Peeking through the folds of the cloth were layers of green. Enyd looked over at Hirek just in time to catch his wink. Though he’d likely saved them further violence with his wardrobe sacrifice, his tunic serving as a salad holder, Enyd wasn’t about to thank him for it. Whatever thanks she’d been about to mouth to the Romulan died on her lips at the sight of his cheeky amusement.

“Anything else we can help you with?” Hirek continued to play at being an ally cum host in a restaurant not his own. And all because it amused him to do so.

The Nausicaan female looked up from the hand-wrapped salad to oogle Hirek. Enyd couldn’t tell if it was with irritation or attraction, or perhaps Nausicaans showed their attraction through irritation. Either way, the woman snorted out what could be considered a no.

“All right, you worthless swine balls, let’s get this fucktastic dinner back to the crew.” Her eyes darted over Enyd and the rest of her companions a moment before she gave another snort and moved to stand by the door.

Enyd remained tense as Yurdz stood from the table and hobbled after her, Grorgei slower going thanks to Talia’s tender loving care. Within a few seconds, the trio melted out the door, and the restaurant was left with the usual hubbub of Klingon comings and goings. As Enyd released the breath she’d been holding, Marika moved down the length of their table to stand next to the alien woman Nysari had been engaging.

“Hey there,” the blue-haired woman smiled up at the newcomer, “how about you and me take a walk? It seems like you could use a friend right now. And I know the feeling.” She looked back to Frank and the others, “I think I’m going to call it for now.” The lieutenant gestured for the alien woman to follow her.

Enyd gave a casual wave at their departure, a seemingly ridiculous thing to do considering everything that had just happened. A waitress dropped a rag on the pool of Nausicaan blood on the table and set a bucket on the floor near their table, grunting at the mess they’d made before walking away. It seemed they were expected to clean things up before clearing out altogether. Looking over to Zark, Enyd reached across the table and took the Andorian’s discarded knife. She quickly used her napkin to clean off the blade and held it out for her friend.

“I appreciate the swift response, Zark. And I presume Mia does as well,” Enyd’s eyes flickered toward Frank and gave him and Talia both a nod of gratitude, “Next time, can we use our words first?”

Hirek reached down and snatched a piece of meat off the top of what remained of the salad nearest him, “The tongue is mightier than the fist sort of thing?” He winked at Enyd’s glare, then moved back to join the others at the far end of the table.

Choosing to ignore him, Enyd signaled for the waitress to return, “Excuse me, but could you tell me where G’erc’s Cantina is?”

The woman looked confused before pointing to the floor, “You’re in it.”

“I thought this was Luyr’s Cart.”

The woman huffed with annoyance. “It is.”

Though still confused, Enyd forced a smile of thank, “Could we have our soup out now, then? We are part of the –“

“Tour,” the woman interrupted with another huff, “Yes, I know. It is on the way. Do you want it fresh or processed?”

Enyd’s eyes widened, not at all knowing what meant what, before taking a chance with, “How about half and half?”

The waitress grunted a response before moving off to fill the order.

“Well, it seems this is where we get our soup too so,” Enyd reached for the rag and moved to stand by the bucket, “get settled again. They’ll bring out the soup in a few minutes.”

She needed something to do to calm her nerves and to keep herself from giving in to the temptation to lecture Zark for her impulsive violence in front of everyone. She also didn’t want to toss disgruntled annoyance at Mia either, finding it more and more annoying that she kept getting blamed for situations that were well and good beyond her control. And Enyd certainly didn’t want to give in to the temptation to smack the back of Hirek’s head with the wet rag in hand just for his mere existence. With each savage swipe of the rag against the table, Enyd sincerely hoped the tour could be salvaged.

[Lt (JG) XamotZark zh’Ptrell (Lt. Zark) | Luyr’s Cart & G’erc’s Cantina? | First City | Qo'nos]

@Ellen Fitz @rae @Dumedion @Eirual

Zark had noticed the Romulan running interference with another Nausicaan and had tensed up in case she was here to reinforce the two battered ones. It thus came as a pleasant surprise when the new comer arrived to drag off to the two interlopers and was quite miffed with them.  Zark kept a sharp eye on all of them.  Two had foul intent, and just because Hirek was guiding in the third didn't mean she was really welcome.  She listened to the repartee and when no more violence came, Zark allowed herself to relax fractionally. It was only when Marika brought all the bags of food and the Romulan had stripped himself to provide a satchel for their now lost salad that Zark felt the stress bleed away.  The Andorian still frowned a bit since she had been hoping to get some of Enyd's razor wit in giving the two thugs a verbal flaying.  When Hirek pulled the knife out, Zark's hand tightened on the iron mug ready to re-initiate hostilities if the ugly she'd stabbed had decided to make a run at anyone, but it was not to be as the two battered and bruised mercenaries followed their leader out.

Smiling in relief, Zark turned back to the table and then frowned as all their food was gone and the only that was left for her was the strange cup full steaming paint thinner.  Enyd's admonition slid off Zark like so much rain water and she smiled at the diplomat with an incorrigible "Sir, yes sir."  This gave her a chance to give her friend a read and it seemed like the CDO was starting to feel the pressure of keeping the tour going without any further wanton violence. 

The Andorian looked at the cup one more time and waited till Enyd finished and sat down before pushing the steaming cup over to her.  She needed a serious chill pill since Zark was not going to stop fighting if the fights kept on coming.  It helped to be a security officer that had to go into court to testify.  That meant holding onto details for trials.  The record did need to be set straight and the Zhen grabbed the human's arm and put her head on the human's shoulder.  "I'll try to be good Enyd, but Chief Arnold did try to get them to go away.  Even verbally threatened them, and I did offer my seat before I was thrown on the floor.  However if chaos does keep coming, I will restore order quickly.  It'll just look messy in the interim."  Zark raised her head off Enyd's shoulder. "Enyd, you're not at fault for what comes and I love you, but I'm not going to be sorry about how these things are dealt with." 

Zark sat there for a second before deciding to acquiesce to her friend's terms, but would say what Enyd wanted anyway just so she knew what the rules were going forward.  "I'll give you and even Nysari a chance to sort these things out with words first, but if violence is in the books, it can't be helped.  Understood?"  Enyd seemed very intent on her self flagelation, so Zark grabbed the rag and forced it to stop as she pulled it out from resisting hands and put the still steaming cup of chech'tluth in front of the green eyes.  The Andorian didn't wait for a response and raised up her ale glass that had magically survived the ruckus and gave one of Enyd's shoulders an impromptu shoulder massage.  "Now drink." The medico ordered. "Sir."

[Ens. Talia "Shadow" Al-Ibrahim | D’Takka | Qo’Nos] Attn: @rae @RyeTanker @Eirual @Juzzie @Ellen Fitz
[Show/Hide]She’d only managed three hits before Gramps barked at her to stop, which she did; Talia froze where she was, straddled on top of the thugs chest, arm cocked back with a death grip around her mug ready to drive it through the bastards face. With a quick glance over her shoulder, her eyes took in the scene: Kali sat – brooding, watchful, ignoring the groans of pain from the prick she skewered to the table – the sly Romulan had guarded their flank, imposing himself on a third Nausicaan, after deftly pulling the tall, slender newcomer out of the way along with the cute-but-out-of-place fellow she’d noticed earlier.

Just like the Bakery, it had all happened so fast.

The body below her twitched, and the pilot reacted on instinct – bashing his face in with the mug once again – just before their female ‘leader’ spoke up. Shadow rose to her feet, stepping on the thugs chest as she moved aside for him to get up. She tossed the frayed rope of hair over her shoulder as her eyes met the female Nausicaan’s evenly. What, her eyes challenged, but Talia held her tongue. Must be something in the food – I’m starting to like trying to intimidate people, she frowned slightly.

We keep going like this and even the Klingons are going to get tired of our shit, Talia grumbled to herself, turning her back on the trio. Her chair had gotten knocked over in the ruckus, so she righted it and set her blood-flecked mug on the table next to what was left of her salad, just as Sparkles made her announcement with a gesture to the tall one – who seemed intent on backing away from the party. “Aw, we scared her off,” Shadow mumbled, pouting a little as she cleaned the blood off the outside of her mug.

Her eyes noticed the conversation, and watched Kali pour Moody a drink, the former offering comfort to the latter (who appeared to be trying to scrub her way through the table). Shadow contemplated pouring herself a cup, in the hopes that everyone else might follow suit, and mellow a bit. Eh...that’s a bad idea, ace, the voice of hard earned wisdom piped up in her head. The pilot chewed her lip for exactly four seconds, debating.

One drink wont kill you or get you wrecked, she smirked, then slid her mug over with an apologetic look to Moody. “Sorry we keep getting in fights in the middle of your food tour LT,” she murmured with a nod as she poured the Klingon brew – her eyes jumped from face to face as she lifted the mug to her lips – “maybe enough word has spread ahead of us that no one will give us any more trouble now?” Or, she added silently, we’ll walk into the biggest bar fight yet, the pilot arched an eyebrow as she drank.

[Ens. Mia Dunne | Luyr’s Cart & G’erc’s Cantina | D’Takka |Qo’noS ]

Attn: : @Ellen Fitz  @rae  @Dumedion  @RyeTanker  @Juzzie

Mia stood, protected by Frank for the most part, from the mayhem that seemed to follow this crew no matter where they went. Enyd seemed to be in the process of pushing back from the table even as Zark was battering the thug that had taken her seat. And Talia was all but pinning the other one to the ground and giving him a similar treatment. The sounds of metal tankards against flesh almost made Mia want to run. But a sense of ... belonging seemed to override that. This crew, these people she barely knew, were all protecting both her and Enyd. It was something of a surprise for her to come to that realization.

The tall red alien was looking both confused and, if Mia was correct, a little frightened by what it had seen and had started to back away just as another crewmember had entered. The arrival of the female Nausicaan made her stiffen once more, unsure of what it had in mind.  If anyone was looking at her face they would have seen the shock when the female Nausicaan started speaking of the two thugs with vile terms.   The quick movement of the Romulan Hirek had pulled both the alien and Rhys out of the path of the angry Nausicaan but had planted himself in her path instead.

The female thug had asked about the food, especially the salad, which is what brought the first two into the establishment in the first place.  Mia caught the look of one of the thugs as he looked at their table. Mia remembered the owner saying something about the salad before and could only guess that this was all the salad that was left. Once again Hirek had provided his tunic as a sacrifice, this time as a salad dish.  Mia shook her head in bewilderment. He could have just handed her the bowl and kept his clothing. 

She unconsciously pulled at her dress, putting a bit more stress on the seams at the shoulders, trying to erase the feeling of that Nausicaan’s hands roughly pawing at her. Mia looked over at Enyd, who was now scrubbing at the blood left behind from the altercation.  She knew that none of this was Enyd’s fault. If she thought about it, even in the outpost Enyd had tried to avoid any altercations. Maybe this was all her fault. With a heavy sigh she leaned over to Enyd and offered a small smile, “Can I help you with that?”

[ Kelistina (Kel) Kavot Droda | D’Takka |Qo’noS ]

Kelistina was taken by surprised when someone took hold of her elbow and pulled her to the side. The same person did likewise to one of the offworlders who had just entered. She nearly fell over and had to push her hand up to the ceiling to avoid ending up on the floor once more. Another offworlder, one she had learned to avoid, came barreling in only to be stopped by the pointed eared fellow who had moved her out of its path.  She was a bit confused as she watched the man talk to the female, who appeared to be an elder to the two others who had been... detained.

To Kelistina it was all confusing but somehow the offworlders had alleviated the tension in the room and the unpleasant  female and her two partners were soon gone. Kelistina was surprised when a blue haired offworlder took her by the arm and led her away. She could not understand what it was saying, and she was nervous about the intent of the being. “Ni ka’dro,” She asked uncertainly. Then she pointed in the direction of her broken down ship, “ei Ka holta.”

---

OOC::
Ni ka’dro - where are we going?
ei Ka holta  - I go to ship

[ Lt. JG Nysarisisa “Nysari” zh’Eziarath | Luyr’s Cart & G’erc’s Cantina | D’Takka | Qo’noS ] Attn: @Ellen Fitz @Eirual @Dumedion @RyeTanker @Juzzie

She’d known instantly that the Nausicaans were planning to cause trouble. If it weren’t for their demeanor, she would have assumed it purely because that was now her night had been going so far. The universe was determined to ruin this night, and the Starfleet officers were too stubborn to give up easily. Clearly everyone’s blood was still up from the previous altercations, because they jumped into the fray far too quickly. Between Talia and Zark, it was over before Nysari could even formulate a plan to calm everyone down and mediate the disagreement. The diplomat flinched noticeably when the knife went through the assailant’s hand. His table manners were atrocious and both Nausicaans needed to be brought up on charges of sexual assault, but physical injury wasn’t the answer. When Zark asked her to move, utterly calm and polite in the aftermath of such violence, Nysari did so wordlessly. She felt ready to vomit, the salad she’d happily eaten earlier seeming to roll in her stomach.

The foreign words hitting her ears, such a strange sensation in this age of readily available universal translators, helped jerk her back to reality. The tall, thin, alien woman still looked nervous. Nysari caught her bowing – as though in apology – when the Andorian focused her attention on her again. She was surprised this one had remained. Such an air of fear, yet the fight hadn’t immediately run her off. There was another new arrival as well, a human who looked equally as skittish. “This is the culinary tour, yes,” she answered his question while fishing her combadge out of a pocket, wondering why it wasn’t translating the unknown language yet. It looked alright, but it was possible one of her multiple collisions tonight had damaged it. In the brief moment she’d spent speaking to him, the red woman seemed to have had enough, bowing again and backing away.

“Please, don’t leave.” Nysari kept her voice as calm and soothing as possible, hoping her tone would convey across even if her words weren’t understood. “Are you alright? We can help you.” But if the woman was going to respond, she wouldn’t have had a chance before Hirek grabbed her. “Hirek,” she began, allowing some anger to enter her tone. Asking her not to leave didn’t mean keeping her here by force. “Let her go–” By then he had grabbed the other new arrival as well, pulling them out of the way to reveal yet another angry Nausicaan barreling towards them. Considering how one of her fellows was currently pinned to the table, Nysari couldn’t quite blame the Nausicaan. However, that didn’t mean she wanted to get squashed (again), scrambling out of the way so the matriarch could brush by her.

She’d steeled herself for another fight, rather horrified by the fact that she was getting used to this, only to find that this interaction was destined to be much calmer. “Don’t!” she found herself snapping at Hirek again, realizing what he was doing right before he yanked the knife out. “There are less painful ways to do that,” she finished helplessly and after the fact. Since she was watching the Romulan quite carefully by now, Nysari was probably one of the few who noticed what he did next. Finally, something she agreed with. The diplomat moved to assist without a word, dropping bowls of salad into the hastily removed tunic. She would have simply given up the bowls, but it wasn’t worth arguing with him. Maybe the Klingons would be protective of their dishware. Maybe Hirek wanted an excuse to be unclothed.

Once it was all over – thankfully without as much bloodshed this time – the diners seemed determined to settle back into their rhythm again. Kala seemed determined to take charge of their new acquaintance. Nysari briefly considered going with them, but a glance at Enyd’s face convinced her to stay. The other diplomat seemed to be losing her composure as this evening continuously fell apart, and Nysari would like to help if she could. Besides, Zark had promised that they’d have a chance to talk things through if anymore chaos called. “Be gentle,” she advised Kala, “try to use hand motions until the translator kicks in.”

Finally righting her chair, Nysari sat down again. “There is a clothing shop nearby, if you wish to find a new shirt,” she offered Hirek, purely to see if he cared or not. “Klingons like a challenge,” she told Talia with a sigh. “The more fights we win, the more honorable a future battle will be.” When the soup came out, Nysari found that she couldn’t bring herself to eat anymore just yet. “Does anyone else want to skip this course?”

[Lt. Enyd Isolde Madsen | D’Takka | Qo’Nos ] Attn: @Juzzie @Dumedion  @RyeTanker @rae  @Eirual

Mia approached with an offer to help clean up around the same time Zark both justified her actions and cited semi-compliance with her request that they be allowed to verbally negotiate through chaos first before throwing fisticuffs and daggers. If it had just been the two of them, Enyd wouldn’t have been so keen on getting these types of reassurances from her Andorian warrior goddess friend. But, since there were a variety of individuals on the tour, some more vulnerable than others, and they weren’t on a dire mission, Enyd did feel it necessary to at least try to do things “properly.”

“Thank you, Mia,” Enyd looked around the table until she found another rag and held it out for Mia to take, “I get the feeling your nerves may settle alongside mine if you have something constructive to do.” Her lips pulled back into a genuine smile of encouragement as she spoke.

But before Enyd could return her full attention to cleaning, Zark shoved a steaming cup into her hand and ordered her to drink. Rolling her eyes, Enyd took a sip then paused. This was the same stuff that had gotten her smashed after two cups when on the mission with L’Nari the week before. She’d cooed in the Caitian’s lap on the ride back to the ship, petting at the diplomatic attache as she tried to convince the woman that life wasn’t so bad after all—despite their injuries from facing off with Klingons. With no need to power through the drink to ensure diplomatic ties, Enyd remained cautious with her small sips. Further down the table, Talia spoke up with an apology.

“As far as I’m concerned, we’ve all been victims of circumstances to this point. We didn’t waltz into the bakery demanding insect infestation to lead to a brawl, and neither did was prance our way here and instigate a fight.” Glancing over the steam to Zark, Enyd winked. “Well, not all of us.” Nysari added more insight into Klingon culture, to which Enyd nodded in agreement. “If word goes ahead of us, we could either be met with no challenge or increased challenge. And sadly, it doesn’t exactly rest on our responses or preferences as to what it will be. Best to keep alert, enjoy the moment, and watch each other’s backs.”

The waitress returned to the table, with two others coming behind her. There were steaming brass cauldrons on two of the large platters and on the third platter there was an assortment of side dishes, likely topping choices for the soup.

“This is the fresh soup,” the waitress had the larger of the two cauldrons placed on the table near Enyd while the other was set down closer to Talia, “that is the processed. And these are the traditional toppings.” The assorted small dishes were set in a line on the table between the two cauldrons.

Enyd’s eyes grew marginally larger when she saw something was still swimming around in the soup. The brown liquid was almost like a gravy, and she could detect a variety of vegetables floating alongside whatever the swimming thing was. Looking past the cauldron, she studied the toppings. Gagh, of course, along with gladst, pipius claw, bregit lung slices, pitted zilm-kach, racht, and a few other dishes filled with what looked to be crumbled bread, nuts, and some dried fruit. Enyd smirked at Nysari’s comment, grabbing her bowl and standing up to serve herself some of the fresh soup, avoiding the swimmer.

“Some of the side dishes look palatable even if you want to avoid this,” Enyd poked the swimmer, then balked when it bit the spoon in her hand and jerked it away, tossing it with a clatter onto the table.

[Lt. Rhys Williams | D’Takka| Qo’Nos ] attn: @RyeTanker @rae @Ellen Fitz @Eirual @Dumedion

Rhys had expected to be lost and confused when he came down to Qo’nos. He was disappointed that his expectations were confirmed. Chaos seemed to reign over the area. Food, fights… possibly food-fights to. Angry Naussicans and an alien of a species he did not recognise who was trying desperately to make themselves understood. Apparently, ether the Universal Translator was not working correctly, or the stranger spoke a language that was confusing it, or maybe both.


In fact, Rhys had been so stunned by what was going on around him, that he had felt a pull on his elbow. Hirek winked at Rhys in a way calculated exactly to make him blush and look away. Rhys didn’t really understand Hirek and he was not certain he ever truly would, where as Hirek with unsettling precision seemed to understand Rhys. He looked across at the frightened Alien who had also been pulled back out of the way of the angry lady Naussican. Whoever she was the Naussican seemed to be in charge and fortunately disinclined towards violence.

Rhys had no idea what to do. An Andorian who he did not recognised had confirmed that this was the culinary tour. Rhys had hoped this was all going to be a stress reliever, but it seemed the opposite was the case. He saw Zark disappear off in one direction with someone other diners and a confused and distressed looking alien.

He was left with Hirek and several others he did not really know. He barely knew Hirek to be honest. Rhys stood awkwardly where he had been left not sure what to do and contemplating returning to the ship. Did he want to stay or go? Had this been a bad idea or not? He practically vibrated with worry. This was not how he had imagined his day going.

[Ens. Mia Dunne | Luyr’s Cart & G’erc’s Cantina | D’Takka |Qo’noS ]

Attn: : @Ellen Fitz @rae @Dumedion @RyeTanker @Juzzie

Mia accepted the rag from Enyd and began to help clean up the evidence of the Nausicaan’s blood. While the thought of what had transpired still made her shiver with dread, cleaning the blood was making her more than a little nauseous. She finished her task and grabbed another rag to wipe her hands. “I’m ahh just going to get this off my hands,” She said as she stood and looked for a washroom. ”There has to be one somewhere, right?” She thought to herself, ”I mean even Klingons had to clean up sometimes, don’t they?”

She finally spotted what appeared to be a washroom in a far corner and turned in that direction just as Enyd made a joke about the food that was just brought out. Mia glanced at the thick soup in time to see something grab the spoon right out of Enyd’s hand. “Oh Shit,” she gasped. She was NOT going to even try that. Her stomach did a flip and she hurried towards the bathroom. 

It was a curious fact that she could deal with remains of long dead but fresh blood and food that could bite back made her queasy. She quickly washed up as best she could, considering the Klingon bathroom was not conducive to the sanitary conditions she was accustomed to. Rather than use the tattered and stained cloth hanging there she wiped her hands on her dress, leaving two long streaks. At this point, the state of her dress was the last thing she was worried about. 

Returning to the group she took her seat once more and just took a very small bowl of what looked like dried fruit. This would have to tide her over until they went to the next place on the list. She could only hope it went a lot better than these last two places.

[Lt (JG) XamotZark zh’Ptrell (Lt. Zark) | Luyr’s Cart & G’erc’s Cantina | First City | Qo'nos] Attn: @Ellen Fitz @rae @Dumedion @Eirual @Juzzie

Zark had seen enough weird shit in her time that when the swimmer got tossed on the table and began to flop around and snap at the air, she thought it was fairly fascinating.  Maybe it was the ale and all the adrenaline as well.  The Andorian's antennae were pointed at the strange creature as she grinned at it.   No wonder Klingon's always seemed ready for a fight if they had something like this swimming around in their soup.  Still, some bright culinary genius thought one of these should be added to the soup for 'spice'.  Zark giggled at her hypothesis as the little toothy snake slash eel analogue  got a sense of something that was edible and started snapping in her direction.  Not being designed for land, it didn't get far.  If they were going to try the soup, she'd have to get the thing off the table and she wasn't hammered enough to try to pick it up with her fingers, instead she grabbed the discarded spoon and gently waved the bowl portion over the creature and it sensed something and snapped at it.  It took a few tries, but there was a ting! as the thing got a hold of the spoon.

She gently raised one arm for service while making sure to keep the sucker engaged and stuck on the spoon.  The harried waitress that had dropped of the soup earlier stopped by with a pile of empty plates on her shoulder. "What is it?"  She asked gruffly. "Uhmmm, do you want to take this away?  We found it in our food." The waitress looked at her bewildered and exasperated before venting her disdain.  Aliens.  "You eat it.  It's best when feisty and has it's blood running.  The flavour of the blood spray is exquisite!" Zark stared at the woman.  She might not eat what the Humans and the Romulan normally did, but she liked her food dead like them as well.  "Errr, okay.  Thank you for that uhh culinary tidbit."  The Klingon huffed and walked off.  Now what did she do with the damn thing?  A quick survey around the table gave a general negative impression of the idea, even the Chief Engineer was looking more stone faced than usual.

It was definitely getting feisty as it got more and more frustrated by it's inability to bite through the ladle.  Maybe she'd see if someone else wanted it, would be a shame for it to go to waste after all.  Carefully getting up, much harder than it sounded since she was still injured, the Andorian slowly made her way towards another table of Klingons to see if she could find a taker.  After about three steps, the biter was pissed and took too long trying to close it's sharp maw around the ladle and fell to the ground.  Time slowed as Zark's mouth dropped open while the eel thingy fell.  She didn't know what instinct said what to do next, but her foot kicked out and smacked the squirmer.  The Andorian watched in horror as it sailed through the air, trailing drops of soup as it went for a table where several Klingons were banging their mugs to some song.  One of the Klingons roared as something bit him on the forehead and everyone else laughed.  When they realized what it was, two of the singers immediately dove at the swearing man.  One managed to push the other out of the way and yelled in triumph as he got it off and shoved it in his mouth.  He screamed when the wrigler bit his tongue and there was a race on to see who could get the thing and eat it. 

Zark stood there dumbfounded at what she was watching, then decided the table was happy enough and turned around for the table with the ladle still in hand.  She'd totally missed Rhys' arrival and when she saw him, her eyes lit up and she smiled brightly. "Rhys!" she squeeled before running at him.  She leapt at him about a meter away and landed with a solid thump as her legs wrapped around his hips and her arms circled around his neck, nearly knocking him over.   The blue face rubbed the Welshman's fuzz like a cat happy to see someone again, then pulled her head back as she hung on.  "When did you get here? Are you here for the tour too?"

[Ens. Talia "Shadow" Al-Ibrahim | Luyr’s Cart & G’erc’s Cantina | First City | Qo'nos] Attn: @rae @Ellen Fitz @Juzzie @Eirual @RyeTanker
[Show/Hide]Oh hell no, Talia held her mug back from the soup-coated thing flopping around on the table. She’d been eyeing the sides, not even remotely interested in the thick, greasy looking slime Klingon’s called soup; she could only watch and blink as the waitress explained that the thing was meant to be eaten. Fuck that, Shadow laughed, then took another swallow of the peculiar red brew, arching a brow and grinning as the Andorian kicked the critter away.

On the far side of the lucky guy that caught the soup-coated thing to the face, Talia noticed a pair of grumpy-looking Klingon females eyeing her oddly. A brow twitched, as her eyes quickly moved to Hirek and then watched out for Skittish– making sure she got to the washroom and back – before returning to the pair. Setting her mug down to lean her elbows on the table, Shadow tilted her head, smirking as her fingers plucked a piece of dried fruit to pop in her mouth. Whatever that Klingon brew was, it wasn’t horrible, and was really strong; a warm, fuzzy sensation was already spreading from her gut to her head. The two of them could be eyeing her, or Pretty-Eyes, or all of them; unable to tell, Talia opted to keep them in her peripherals, just in case.

By the time Kali was running up to pounce on Hotlips, out of the corner of her eye, Shadow noticed one of the women stand and roar something – the pilot’s eyes snapped over to see what all the fuss was about then – just as the Klingon shrugged the robes off her shoulders and roared again, a finger extended at the tour’s table. Uh oh, Talia’s brows shot up at the leather-clad woman as she huffed a laugh. “Now what,” the Wolf grinned, looking around at everyone else to see if they had any inkling as to what the hell was going on.

[The Klaar Sisters |  A moment earlier…]

Valash sneered at her sister, extending a gloved hand across the table for her payment. “You never did have an eye for talent.” The opportunity to bet on off-worlder’s was exceedingly rare, but the Andorian had already proven herself more than a capable warrior. The addition of the others, while appearing softer in comparison, had nevertheless piqued her interest. “Those idiot gangers never stood a chance,” the hand flexed impatiently, until the coins were deposited with a grudging sigh. The owner of Jilagi’s Jewels lifted her chin, grinning as she looked down on her younger sibling.

“Whatever,” Djunnya, the proprietor of an equally sketchy establishment known as The Targ Pit, hissed. “When they wreck your place, I’ll be there to escort your customers to mine. How in the infinite hells did you manage to get that vermin infested den on the tour list anyway?”

“That’s my business, not yours, sister,” Valash chuckled as she dropped the coins into the pocket of her robe. “It helps not looking like you though.”

“Bitch.”

“Hah – all bark, no bite. If you feel slighted, spare me the whining and do something about it,” Valash shrugged with a chorus of creaking leather. “Challenge, or offer,” a bushy eyebrow rose as she tilted her head, “or both?”

Djunnya shook her head, the thick mane of tightly curled hair shifting with her. “You know I’m hurting for customers and you cut me out of this opportunity,” her eyes narrowed, gesturing at the crowd around them and the entertainment offered by the off-world tourists. “I’ll bleed for this and so will you, sister. Look at them,” her head jerked to the group at the tour table. “Barely here for an hour and already a mob following their every move, waiting to see what idiocy they get into next or when their weak insides finally give out. One of them already left with that...other one,” her nose scrunched up in distaste.

Valash rolled her eyes as she drank, slamming the mug down on the table they shared. “You’re my competition, idiot girl, why would I look out for you? You never had any business opening your own place and you know it,” the older sister sneered again. “Just go back to pit-fighting and dry humping old broken warriors, leave the management to those of us who know what we’re doing.”

The heated discussion between the two establishment owners paused as they and most of the rest of the onlookers watched the Andorian kick a perfectly good snack into some poor fool’s face. Valash huffed a weak laugh, then returned to her drink. Djunnya scowled at the blue one then the other off-worlders one by one, until she glared at the dark haired female that liked to hit things with a tankard. How do I get you to bring your sorry asses to my club, and all the coin following you? A grunt of amusement bubbled up her throat as the human tried to look like she hadn’t been noticed – and a plan formulated in the Klingon’s mind. “See that one there,” the younger sister lifted her chin to the human.

Valash turned her eyes to the tanned weakling. “What of it?”

“Wait and see,” Djunnya smirked, then jumped to her feet and bellowed. “Off-worlder, I challenge your strength,” the Klingon flung the robe from herself, then pointed at the dark haired one, speaking as she approached the group’s table. “I will force your flesh into flame for the honor of all D’Takka, or you you will force mine! If you best me, then you and your associates shall enjoy the finest VIP privileges my cabaret has to offer.”

“It’s a fucking titty-bar, you moron,” Valash laughed as the crowd cheered, shaking her head at her little sister’s attempt. Not a bad play though, she had to admit. Either way the contest went, her sister gained. Shrewd, little sister. As the crowd chorused, a clearing was made in quick order, while the waitress cleaned up a small table and chairs were slid into place. Djunnya stood before the group, muscular arms folded, as the human she’d called out grinned like an idiot; the rest of the group held a range of expressions – from amusement and surprise to worry and concern. Grunting with impatience, the Klingon seated herself and set her elbow on the table, hand open and flexing, waiting for the human to accept the challenge; on opposite sides of the table, two small bowls were lit with flame. 

[Talia, a slightly buzzed/amused/confused pilot]

“Uh,” Shadow laughed nervously, glancing around for assistance, “w-what? Duchess, w-what’d she say?” Talia eyed the female Klingon warily, her head tilted in confusion as she watched her sit at the table with the little flame-boxes alight. The Wolf recognized the body position, amazingly. Hold up, dark eyes narrowed at the Klingon. Does she wanna...arm wrestle? The pilot arched a brow, then smirked as she got to her feet, winking at Pretty-Eyes. “Don’t go anywhere – I’ll see if she wants a piece of you next,” she teased through a grin.

---

OOC - the sisters were speaking Klingon, which Talia doesn't know. Just for clarification. Y'all can take this and run with it however you like, btw ;)

[ Kelistina (Kel) Kavot Droda | Luyr’s Cart & G’erc’s Cantina | D’Takka |Qo’noS ]

Attn: : @Ellen Fitz @rae @Dumedion @RyeTanker @Juzzie

Kelistina pulled the small blue haired off worlder in the direction of her downed ship. Tapping her hand against her own chest she tried again to tell the smaller creature what her name was, “Ei Kelistina, Ca Kavot neDroda”. She then pointed to her new companion and asked “Vei zovin ne?” Her head tilted in question towards the young one beside her.


At least she had a name to call the other, which allowed her to relax a little as she nodded and smiled to the offworlder. “Kea, ei Vat,” She said as she took the path back to her ship.

It took a little less time than usual to reach her ship even though the offworlder ‘s strides were half of hers. She found herself moving faster than she normally did due to the enthusiasm of the young one beside her. During the walk, even though she did not understand much of what was said, or actually anything at all, it was still nice to have someone near that wasn’t trying to shoo her away or throw things at her for a change.  When she got a chance to speak, she tried to explain how she got to the planet.  Using a lot of hand gestures to ‘show’ the events. Little did she know that the Universal translator was learning her language and the young girl beside her was actually starting to hear a lot of words she understood.

When they reached the clearing Kel stopped and pointed to her ship. It wasn’t in the best shape, especially after the crash, but she was certain it was still space-worthy, if she could just get it off the planet. 

 

---

Ei Kelistina, Ca Kavot neDroda - I (be/am) Kelistina, out of Kavot in Droda.
Vei zovin ne? - Your name what?
Kea, ei Vat - Come, I show.

[Hirek tr’Aimne | D’Takka | Qo’Nos ] Attn: @Dumedion  @RyeTanker  @rae  @Eirual  @Juzzie

Hirek smirked at Nysari and shook his head at her suggestion to purchase another shirt. He was quite content wearing his undershirt for all to see and would have no qualms with going without clothes altogether if the night wound that way before the end of this tour. Hirek felt this especially so now that Rhys was with them. It had surprised Hirek—at least marginally—that after such a surprising first session of counseling, Rhys had not extended an offer for a follow-up. Not even a shared cup of tea or a meal shared in a public place—in case he was worried about their losing clothes again. Hirek knew he could be intimidating, and though he was no telepath, he’d surmised his strange mix of dominantly submissive tactics during their tryst had likely confused the Welshman.

Not one to take offense at silence or avoidance—and also not one to presume a firm “no” had been said by said silence or avoidance—Hirek began to move down the table to take up position next to Rhys when a flash of blue sped by in his peripherals. The Romulan rocked back on his heels with amused wonder as he watched Zark latch onto the counselor with a warm affection one might observe either between siblings or lovers—and it was yet to be determined which term Rhys labeled Zark with.

Leaning against the edge of the table, Hirek was close to Talia when the Klingon woman’s bellow drew everyone’s eyes to her impressive form. Like many other Romulans, Hirek possessed a rudimentary understanding of the Klinong language. Mostly out of necessity for the skirmishes or near skirmishes their people’s had had with one another over the years. As Talia had asked Nysari for a translation, Hirek remained silent, arms folding over his chest, as he waited to see if the Andorian diplomat, or any of their companions, knew that this Klingon woman was not only challenging her to a duel of sorts but was also guaranteeing future exposure to scantily clad Klingons if Talia won.

When Talia moved to engage the Klingon, Hirek grinned, “Oh, don’t worry, I’ll wait here.” This was going to be spectacular either way.

[Lt. Enyd Isolde Madsen]

The writhing soup now the least of her worries, Enyd glanced at Nysari, curious if the Andorian knew Klingon since Enyd certainly didn’t. It seemed fairly straightforward, a simple arm wrestling match, and yet there was always a catch with Klingons. Eyes moving back to the hulking warrioress, Enyd studied the woman left behind at the bar. The two of them had been bantering just moments before the challenge. Perhaps she would have answers as to the catch?

Enyd stood and shifted along the crowd's edge, hoping to sidle up to the second woman without drawing attention to herself. But she did not take into account the fact that by now, the crowded bar was more than a little agitated and animated as the fellow patrons began to place bets on either the Klingon or Talia. As a trio of young Klingon men jostled amongst each other in playful banter, an elbow shot backwards and knocked right into Enyd’s forehead. Jolted dizzy, Enyd stumbled back. Her arms shot out to grab hold of the wall to steady herself. But, alas, instead, her hands gripped the belt of a rotund Klingon merchant standing stoic by the wall. As the belt hung low, around his surprisingly small waist below a bloated belly, Enyd’s slight weight was just enough to jostle the buckle out of place, and without further adieu, Enyd, belt, and trousers toppled to the floor in a heap.

One hand rubbing at the sore spot on her forehead, the other pushing herself up from the floor, Enyd’s eyes traveled up the hairy legs of the Klingon merchant until she first caught sight of his skintight underwear—leaving nothing to the imagination—and then moved her gaze further up, over the curve of the man’s belly, before finally catching his gaze as he tipped forward to stare down at her in return. A few seconds passed before the man let out a hoot of laughter. Enyd, for a moment, thought that would be enough, but then she was hauled to her feet by one of his lackeys as the man garbled something at her.

“A cloth for a cloth.” The lackey whispered in her ear, acting as make-shift translator.

Enyd’s eyes widened as the merchant grinned, leaning forward with every intention of pulling away an item of clothing of his choice.

[Lt. Rhys Williams | D’Takka| Qo’Nos ] attn: @Dumedion @RyeTanker @Ellen Fitz @Eirual @rae

Chaos. That seemed to be the appropriate word. Clearly the food tour had gone more interestingly than he had imagined that it would. There was a part of him that expected a tour of a Klingon world to go a bit like this, nevertheless it still surprised him on some level. The Chaos was in no way diminished by Zark’s hug. Or as Rhys now thought of it, her ‘tackle hug’. It was like playing rugby again, though fortunately as Zark was considerably lighter than most male Rugby players Rhys was able to hold his balance though he did waver a little bit.

As the initial shock of her arrival melted away, he started to go a little pink at the effusiveness of her greeting. Rhys wasn’t used to public displays of affection, at least not while sober so he wasn’t entirely sure what to do. Still, he had his arms around her middle and held her to his chest. Even if he wasn’t used to this and was faintly embarrassed it was nice for someone to be so pleased to see him, another feeling he was not used to. “… Well hello to you to.” There was a nervous tone in his voice, but also amusement as he started to see the funny side of her over the top greeting. “I arrived just a couple of minutes ago. I wanted to join earlier but I had to get some work done.” He noticed Hirek out of the corner of his eye, handsome older man in just an undershirt.

They had not spoken since they had had sex in his office. In a sense Rhys was frightened. He knew professionally it was something he should not have done. If the Theurgy were still under the auspices of Starfleet that could be an instant discharge. On the Theurgy things were different he knew he would likely get more leeway, after all where would they get another person to fill his role, and what would they do with him. Still the possibility of getting in trouble frightened Rhys. He was also feeling strange about his own behaviour more generally. There had been several incidents recently where he had found himself in sexual situations without trying to. Upset with a date that had gone wrong had led to a threesome with two officers he didn’t know. Being removed from duty had led to a holodeck dalliance. There had been all the flirtations with Stellan, a man who he admired even though his tendency to break rules like it was a competition made him uncomfortable. His subsequent injury and trip to cryo had led to a lot of guilty feelings on Rhys’ part. Then there was Hirek, a man who had baffled him, scared him and excited him all at once.

Zark made the most sense, he had known her from the Cayuga, she was one of the few people on board he was close to. There was a lot of genuine affection between the two, whether that was romantic or not he wasn’t sure, she was married with partners back home, and Rhys had no understanding of Andorian concepts of relationships and was afraid to ask. Rhys was seemed to be changing in ways even he didn’t understand. Rhys could see that Hirek looked faintly amused at his and Zark’s interaction. Rhys gave him a momentary exasperated smile, before turning his attention back to the Andorian wrapped around his body. He hoped beyond all logic that his smile would somehow convey that he hadn’t been avoiding Hirek even though he totally had.

Soon however all eyes turned to the Klingon woman after her loud outburst. Rhys liked languages but had never been especially skilled with them. Consequently, he had no idea what was being said. His unfamiliarity with Klingon body signals also ensured he was in the dark. They always seemed angry to him, then two them would head butt each other and laugh as the best of friends. He didn’t think he would understand them if he lived to be a hundred. It seemed a fight was going to start again. “Not again.” He said under his breath as he watched the woman who had been talking to Hirek approach the Klingons. He looked at Zark and with a slightly panicked voice whispered into her ear. “Um…. What’s going on.”

[Ens. Mia Dunne | Luyr’s Cart & G’erc’s Cantina | D’Takka |Qo’noS [/b]]
ATTN: @Ellen Fitz @rae @Dumedion @RyeTanker  @Juzzie

Mia had begun stuffing a spoonful the driest food she’d ever had the misfortune to eat into her mouth before realizing it was nearly inedible. To make matters worse whatever it was had instantly sucked up all moisture in her mouth making it impossible to swallow. She grabbed the closest beverage she found and had to take several gulps just to get the so-called food down her gullet. She took another gulp of the liquid to make sure it had all washed down. She decided right then that she was done with the soup course. 

And then Zark seemed to fly across the room and wrap around some poor soul. Mia thought for a moment it was another fight, but she almost laughed when Zark all but cooed over the man who was now supporting Zark’s weight. “Looks like she’s happy to see you,” Mia quipped, surprised at herself for even saying it. She shook her head wondering at her own outburst.

Her musing came to a sudden stop when there was a loud female bellow from across the room. Mia’s eyes widened when a Klingon woman strode purposefully towards... not Zark? “What?” Mia thought as the woman stopped in front of Talia. In Mia’s mind she was way too close to whatever was going to happen and tried to push her chair back from the table. At almost the same time she realized that Enyd had left the table. She scanned the area looking for her only to cast her eyes on another sight she would need to bleach from her memory. A slightly rotund and very hairy Klingon near the bar with his pants down to his ankles.

Mia giggled at the sight of the Klingon wearing tightey whiteies. And Enyd was being held in mid-air by what appeared to be the partially undressed Klingon’s comrade. “Oh how nice, he’s helping her up,” she said as she absently took another drink from the large goblet she held in her hand.  Strangely, she felt oddly .. well.. happy would be too strong a word, but for some reason she wasn’t as concerned about what would happen.

---

OOC : I don’t remember what drinks were on the table, but since she’s not a drinker anyway, whatever it is will hit her fast and hard.

[ Lt. JG Nysarisiza “Nysari” zh’Eziarath | Luyr’s Cart & G’erc’s Cantina | D’Takka | Qo’noS ] Attn: @Dumedion @Ellen Fitz @RyeTanker @Eirual @Juzzie

She hadn’t been interested in the soup before, and discovering a live creature inside didn’t change her mind. Unlike the others, Nysari had been on Qo’noS for long enough that it didn’t surprise her. This was exactly the sort of thing that they would consider a delicacy. Klingons like their food as fresh as could be. Though it had averted yet another fight, she was quickly started it regret giving away the rest of their salad. Three courses, and that had been the only edible one. Unfortunately, this was a food tour, and they all couldn’t just sit here staring at it, not now that Zark had removed the truly questionable ingredient.

“Well done, Zark. Here goes nothing,” she quipped, picking up a bowl. “Warn me if you see something else moving, please.” Every ladle seemed fraught with danger, but nothing else lashed out at her. Once filled, she brought the bowl up and sniffed it cautiously, her nose wrinkling slightly at the smell. The living creature might be gone, but the broth was still heavily flavored with blood. With luck, it would taste better than it smelled.

One spoonful relieved her of that notion, but Nysari was prepared enough to keep the expression off her face. She was ready to push the bowl away from her when something fell on top of her head. Unlike before, this wasn’t the weight of a person, but some sort of cloth. The black wave of fabric fell over her eyes, startling her enough that she jerked her meal and toppled the bowl, spreading it over the table and a good amount onto her lap. “What the-“ She pulled the offending layer off to clear her vision, no doubt messing up her hair even further. “Have we lost so many clothes that people have decided to give them to us?” She asked dryly as she looked at the Klingon robe now in her hands.

It didn’t take long to find their newest opponent. A burly Klingon woman was right in Talia’s face, challenging her to some sort of test of strength. Nysari sighed as the room was quickly reset, deciding to keep the robe and use it as a towel for the soup in her skirt. The occupants of the cantina were just as excited as they’d been for every other fight, but this one had much more of a ritualistic component, with a table, chairs, and even bowls of fire laid out with precise measurements.

She realized a few seconds too late that Talia was talking to her, then another few seconds after that to contemplate the meaning of her new nickname. Duchess was an ancient old human title, she remembered that much. Unfortunately, she didn’t remember anything else about it. But she could research that later. For now, she would have to translate. Nysari was conversational in basic Klingon, enough to navigate a city, order food, and make pleasantries. She’d had no formal training – her month long temporary assignment to Qo’noS hadn’t warranted it. It was all picked up from wandering the First City and starting up conversations with the locals. Most of whom were unimpressed. But with everyone looking askance at her, the diplomat gave it her best shot.

“You have been challenged to a test of strength,” she explained, though it seemed perfectly obvious by the setup. Talia was already halfway over there, and Nysari dutifully followed along. “She also said something about premiere service at her-“ That was a word she didn’t understand, but another Klingon came to the rescue. “Service at her bar.”

“We’re on a set event,” she explained to the woman in accented, but serviceable Klingon. “Next, we go to Dessa’s Dining. We cannot go to your bar.” If Talia won, she didn’t want the group to insult the arm wrestler’s honor when they didn’t follow her to her establishment.

A little too quickly, the Klingon replied, “It is Dessa’s Dining! Lucky you!” The whole room burst out with laughter, and Nysari was certain that she’d missed out on the joke.

“Dessa’s is a restaurant, not a bar,” she replied.

“It’s both!” Though she didn’t quite believe it based on everyone’s reactions, Nysari didn’t have a good answer, considering they were sitting in both Luyr’s Cart and G’erc’s Cantina. She spent slightly too long thinking of a response, and the Klingon brushed her off and shouted at Talia instead. “Sit human! For your honor, face the fire!”

Now that they were at the table, Nysari looked again at how the bowls of fire were positioned. “I believe this is arm wrestling,” she explained, switching back to Federation Standard. “But if you lose, your hand is going to be shoved into that bowl.”

[Ens. Talia "Shadow" Al-Ibrahim | Luyr’s Cart & G’erc’s Cantina | D’Takka | Qo’noS] Attn: @rae @RyeTanker @Ellen Fitz @Eirual @Juzzie
[Show/Hide]There was something about the way Duchess talked that Talia really enjoyed but also found really hard not to mock; the Andorian's words and tone were always crisp and perfectly enunciated, like she was forever addressing a crowd of people. Reminds me of the Academy. Maybe I should call her Professor instead, the pilot smirked, arching a brow at the diplomat. Nah, always go with the first choice.

“Well, I guess I better not lose then huh,” Talia chuckled, then threw a smirk to the brawny Klingon woman before spinning the short-backed chair around.

There was an archaic vid from Earth, about a brutish barbarian roaming the wastes, conquering his foes with broadsword in hand with the help of loyal companions. Talia tilted her head at her ‘opponent’, realizing the Klingon woman resembled the barbarian’s friend and lover quite remarkably; dark skin, savagely gleeful green eyes, a fat metal stud pierced just below her bottom lip. With her mane of frazzled hair and the revealing skin-tight leather outfit, it was rather difficult for Shadow to take her seriously. Then again, Talia was also more than a little buzzed. Spikes are a nice touch, the pilot nearly laughed, then took a double take at the Klingon’s chest. They were teeth of some kind, and were going through the fabric, and her….Oh shit, are those her nips?

“Alright Valeria, keep your leathers on,” Shadow laughed as she straddled the chair, then shrugged the outer layer of her seaweed top from her arms and shoulders, leaving the bikini-like bra. “Wouldn’t want to catch on fire, right,” she grinned at Nysari’s expression. “Hey, can I get a shot of something first?” The pilot yelled over the crowd as she looked around for the waitress. Her opponent grunted something then, but as she looked around, Talia’s dark eyes narrowed as she saw Moody held before the grasping hands of a pot-bellied Klingon, with his pants down, bulging junk outlined for the whole world to see. The fuck, she mouthed, then pushed herself up to her feet.

“HEY,” Shadow bellowed at Latex-Panties and his crony, veins bulging in her neck and biceps – just as the waitress arrived with a tray of small, flaming cups.

[Djunnya Klaar, owner of The Targ Pit]

Federation weaklings, she sneered at the Andorian and Human, rolling her shoulders while she waited for the dark haired one to sit her scrawny ass down. “Kais! Bring the oath-shots,” she barked aloud over the laughter and jeering crowd, as green eyes looked over her opponent unkindly. Hells, she's hidious. As the human shed her pathetically cheap garment, revealing even more disgustingly soft skin, Djunnya pulled the fingerless glove from her right hand with a toothy grin. “You look brave and confident – this is good – but will it be enough? You humans never do well when you stand alone,” her eyes glared at the Andorian. As the human prattled on about something in her alien tongue, Djunnya nodded to the waitress, Kais, with a gesture to hurry up. Let’s get this over with, she grinned to herself, thinking of all the money these idiots were going to bring her.

Several things happened then that the club owner could never have expected.

Kais had just placed the first oath-shot on the table; these were meant to be drunk during the match, as tradition dictated. Suddenly the human’s face contorted into an even uglier mask – all lines and taunt skin – as she surged to her feet; the off-worlder roared, almost worthy of a true warrior, at some idiotic merchants that looked to be getting handsy with another human. Djunnya’s eyes narrowed in contempt at the behavior as her nostrils flared, but before she could do more, she watched in amazement as the dark haired human downed the blazing drink and hurled the cup – a flickering, enflamed blur of dark metal, spinning end over end – nailing the rotund male directly in the bridge of his nose.

“Success!” The crowd roared as the merchant toppled with a grunt; the splashes of fiery liquid setting his clothes (and the idiot holding the human female) alight. Djuunya cackled along with everyone as the fools hurried to pat the flames out, then turned her emerald eyes back to the kelp-dressed human with a hint of approval. “Well done, human,” she sneered, then flexed her hand and took up her own oath-cup. Her nostrils flared wide at the scent from the flaming liquid; an extremely potent blend of bloody alcohol flavored with the essence of fermented Kj’UraH testicles. Known to induce a lust for battle, for a Klingon, the effects were mild to nil depending on ones tolerance. Djuunya grinned toothily at the human, eager to see how the female would react. “Come, test your mettle!”

[Meanwhile]

Her throat felt like it was scorched beyond repair, but the grimace on her face was for the sheer audacity of these people. “You okay,” Shadow croaked to Enyd, holding her neck. Shit, that tastes like burnt asshole, the Wolf coughed as the entire place seemed to explode with even louder cheers and laughter. Shadow winced at the noise and pain in her throat, losing sight of Moody as her eyes screwed shut; a surge of unbidden adrenaline hit her system, powerful enough to make her lightheaded for a second. A rush of strength powered into her limbs, forcing her eyes wide as she exhaled in a growl of exultation – muscled arms, chest and abs locked rigid as she flexed – arms curling up from her slender waist to the ceiling in triumph. “Wooo,” she howled at the crowd, then turned wild eyes to the Andorian at her side. “Duchess,” Talia’s voice dropped an octave, practically growling the diplomats name, “holy shit – what did I just drink?!”

She felt more amped up than any pre-workout concoction that was ever made; unable to stand still, Talia dropped her ass back into the chair opposite of Valeria and slammed her elbow down onto the table. “Let’s gooo,” she shouted, then seized the Klingon’s hand in her own, locking her grip in tight, every vein pulsing under her tanned skin. The crowd chanted out three times, then roared again, and Talia’s arm locked rigid as the contest began.

“Fuck,” the pilot grunted, wavering under the unexpected strength of her opponent, but grit her teeth and pushed back. She watched as the Klingon grinned, downing a shot without any trouble, then belched; all the while, her arm never wavered. Another shot-cup was pushed towards Shadow, the dark-skinned Klingon nodded at it with a fanged smirk.

“Hell yeah Valeria let’s do it,” Talia growled, holding her opponent in place with a grimace of effort as she raised the cup to her lips and tossed it back. “AAHH,” the pilot roared almost immediately after, from the burning liquid and the insane effects to her body. Beyond the grinning visage of Valeria, the whole room was starting to blur, but Talia didn’t care. Burning strength flooded her, and she used it – teeth clenched, eyes screwed shut – to push her opponent’s fist down, centimeter by centimeter.

In the back of her mind, Shadow wondered how the hell she’d ended up like this – but it was far too late to turn back now. She could only keep pushing, and hope the rest of the party was having as much fun as she was. Then the smell of smoke registered in her adrenaline/alcohol addled brain, and her eyes darted up and to the side, vision swimming. Duchess was gone, and it looked like several small fires had broken out.

“Oh…shit…,” the pilot slurred through her teeth, realizing the pandemonium going on around her. Insanely, her opponent and the swimming view of the crowd around them didn’t seem to care. Valeria grunted, spittle hissing between her fangs as she struggled, but Talia held firm. The crowd kept cheering, and someone pushed the last cups towards them as the back of the Klingon’s hand trembled just centimeters from the flame-bowl. “Fuck…it…,” the Wolf growled, tossing her own shot back only a second after her opponent.

“Ughhhhh,” Shadow belched, drooling onto the table from a jaw that wouldn’t unclench; Valeria's sneer had vanished, replaced with a grudging mask of effort, but it was too late. With a final howl, Talia pushed the back of the Klingon’s hand down into the flames.

The crowd roared – then everyone started scrambling to put the fires out.

---

OOC – the reason for the coin toss was to see if she won or not. I didn’t want to make the decision on my own lol, so…guess we’re going to a tiddy-bar! (If we make it out alive, that is) :D

[Lieutenant Frank Arnold | Luyr’s Cart & G’erc’s Cantina | First City | Qo'nos] Attn: @Ellen Fitz @rae @Dumedion @Eirual @Juzzie

There was something to be said about just sitting around and taking in the sights.  It was the enjoyment of the moment.  Riding a motorbike with nothing but the road.  Working and shaping a piece of wood till it yielded a work of art, or a useful piece of furniture.  Sitting on a comfy chair and just enjoying the flavours and aromas that a glass of scotch had hidden in its caramel coloured depths.  These examples ran though the engineer's head as he watched the complete opposite engulf the group.  He'd hoped events had finally settled, but when Zark tried to get rid of the worm,  he sighed and just poured himself more ale while he watched events unfold.  If he was even half lucky, maybe he could sit and watch without being dragged into the maelstrom.   He was glad that Zark's mishap with the biting eel hadn't resulted in any trouble following her to their table.  Then it happened.  Madsen was knocked over and a fat Klingon suddenly had his underwear exposed.  He became concerned when Enyd was picked up and surrounded, then his head snapped to Mia when she made her observation.  Frank stared blankly at the blonde scientist as he wondered what she was talking about, then he got a better look at her expression and realized she was fast becoming drunk.  Fate was beginning to pull Frank in too many directions.  Frank was about to try to get Mia to slow down, but then a large woman challenged Talia to an arm wrestle,

Frank drank his ale as he tried to make up his mind on what to do next.  Looking to see if Zark was gonna be any help, he quickly discounted that as she was leaning on another human with blonde hair.  Her hands were on her hips as she appeared to be interrogating the new comer and pointing between him and the Romulan.  She was talking to the Romulan and pointing at his mouth and the other human's crotch, then her own mouth and the human's crotch once more.  Her hands soon began moving back and forth to show something growing, and the engineer realized what the two were talking about as the human began to radiate his discomfort.  It didn't seem to help when Zark kissed the man and squished herself on him.  His attention was brought back to his immediate vicinity when the shots arrived and his eyes almost bugged out as he could smell the vile concoction from where he was sitting. Talia was either already drunk or had a steel nose as she downed the flaming shot and began her competition in earnest. The volume sky rocketed as the locals began watching Talia's muscled arms contest the strength of her opponent. Shouts and the sounds of metal hitting hard surfaces rang out.

The merchant falling over after bring hit by a flaming shot decided Frank as Madsen was now sort of loose. He gave Mia one last look and decided she was safe enough, though getting sloshed quick and went to drag Zark off her play mate as her hands began to wander over the human. She protested at first till Frank pointed where Enyd was working to try to free herself and the Andorian sighed as she nodded her assent. Frank led the way as Talia did battle. "Alright mister. The lady's had enough and your boss is out." The thug looked at Frank and moved Enyd roughly to the side, bring himself closer to the bearded challenger. "Hah! Human, now that he's down, honour demands a piece of clothing and one of you be unconscious." The thug let go of his quarry and put his fists up. Frank sighed and took a step back before raising his fists, then looked at Madsen. "Can you try to talk him out of this?"

"Yaaaaaaaa! Never!" came a yell from behind the engineer as a blue blur flew passed him mid air and a boot heel smashed into the thug's head. In an instant, the blue alien dropped the thug on his back with a thud. The blue fury quickly got up and kicked the thug in the temple with her toe, then smashed the heel into his forehead on the return where he promptly passed out.  Frank stared dumbfounded at how the situation had escalated and de-escalated so quickly. Then the smell hit him and he blanched. "Oh No" was all that came out as he saw the glazed semi slack look on Zark's face, and 'aroma' from the shots hit his nostrils.

The Andorian was straddling Enyd's legs and cradling the green eyed woman's head.   Frank simply stared in astonishment at how the tough warrior woman had suddenly gone all sappy as all he could make out through the mournful tones was something about how unfair life was. The apparently inconsolable Zhen grabbed the brunettes head and declared that she would share the key to happiness in this situation and Frank's intuition began to blare red Alert in his mind. His forward movement to stop the farcical drama and separate Zark from Enyd was stopped as he felt a couple pair of big arms hold him back. "Don't worry human. We just want to see where this goes." Frank looked back at a pair of armour clad Klingons who were leering at the Andorian.  "What do you mean?" Frank asked levelly though the level of alarm was quickly rising.  "Well, the blue one was following you, but maybe she felt like she needed some additional courage.  She looked at what the brown human who's arm wrestling and decided to take two drinks right away."  The warrior laughed in clear amusement. "Well, they hit her like a mad targ, and she went at your friends captor. She looks pretty drunk.  Never figured such a lively one for being so melancholy."

The engineer stared helplessly as Zark summoned a couple of shots that arrived with remarkable speed,  then poured them both into her mouth till her cheeks looked like a terran chipmunk.   There was a moment where Frank thought Zark was going to swallow two more shots and he strained to get out of the grip.  "No! Zark! Don't do it!" he yelled.  What happened next was totally unexpected as the blue woman grabbed the acting CDO's head and planted her lips on Enyd's in a full on the mouth kiss. While he had intellectually understood there was a particular sensuality about the Andorian, seeing it now and being a very heterosexual male, his body reacted accordingly, especially when despite what appeared to be her best efforts, Enyd's throat appeared to be moving to swallow the liquid.

[Hirek tr’Aimne | D’Takka | Qo’Nos ] Attn: @Dumedion  @RyeTanker @rae  @Eirual  @Juzzie

“It seems that Talia gets to prove her mettle once again,” Hirek answered Rhys, though the Welshman had sent his whisper toward the Andorian. He playfully added, “This sort of delightful mayhem has been dogging our steps ever since we left the ship. I'm sure you'll be as entertained as we've been so far now that you've joined us.”

Hirek’s gaze moved between the ensuing chaos enveloping his fellow tourists like a persistent cloud of doom and the increasing level of nervousness rolling off Rhys’ shoulders the longer he remained close by. Still fairly glued to the Welshman, Zark’s antenna waved back and forth, in a manner Hirek had learned meant she was assessing the situation.

"Rhys, why are you so nervous?” Zarl detached herself and placed her hands on her hips. “This isn't the first time I've mashed my body parts on you, and why do you keep looking at Hirek?" She gestured toward Hirek with both her hands and her antenna.

Hirek responded before Rhys had the opportunity, “The last we saw one another was under very different circumstances. With far fewer people around. Quite a private setting, intimate almost if I remember correctly.” Hirek reached up and lightly ran his fingers across his mouth in a feigned gesture of wiping away crumbs while his gaze traveled down the length of the counselor, lips drawing back into a sly smile.

“Why are you smiling at him?” Zark questioned, hips shifting back and forth as she switched her gaze between the two men. “What did you two do?"

Breaking his stare with the counselor, Hirek offered her an easy smile, “I’m not one to kiss and tell. Did I use the phrase right?” He glanced at Rhys, then back to Zark, “I am trying to incorporate more Federation lingo, predominantly Terran phrases, but I fear sometimes I misapply the phrases.”

The Andorian narrowed her eyes, studying Hirek as if he were an ancient tome to be deciphered, then she swung her gaze back to Rhys. It took only a moment longer before Zark’s eyes widened, and she pointed first toward Hirek’s mouth, then her own, then Rhys’ mouth.

“Kiss and tell.” She brought her hands up and mimed out a growing erection before gesturing toward Rhys and then Hirek again and then herself.

It was Hirek’s turn to widen his eyes in pleased surprise, “Oh?” He questioned, deciphering her deeper meaning. Frank's timely arrival prevented him from knowing anything further, with the older engineer steering Zark away from the pair of them and across the pub toward Enyd.

Hirek tracked their movements even as he shifted to stand closer to Rhys, “It truly is good to see you again, dear counselor.” With Talia winning against the Klingon giantess in one portion of the pub, while it seemed Frank was leading Zark over to work some magic in another with Enyd, Hirek couldn’t help but snort in amusement. He turned to look at Rhys. “We haven’t exactly had smooth sailing on this tour, but it has had its benefits.” Tipping forward, Hirek managed a whisper close to Rhys’ ear, “I got to see you again.” Hearing Zark’s animated cries from her corner with Frank and Enyd, Hirek sucked in a breath of surprise when he turned in time to see the Andorian siphon liquor straight into Enyd’s mouth. “And I get to see that.” He added, bumping his shoulder against Rhys’, eyes crinkled in a mirthful smile.  "Care for a drink?"

[Enyd Isolde Madsen]

Before he could decide on what cloth he wanted to take from her, the fat Klingon reared back as something heavy hit his bulbous nose, his body lurching, legs tangling in his fallen trousers. With an offended cry, he crumpled to the floor, and the goon holding Enyd’s shoulders tightened his grip. Enyd blinked in confusion, craning her head around to see from where the object had come or from who. Spying Talia perched across from the female Klingon who’d first approached, their hands clasped in an arm wrestling stance, Enyd deduced that likely Talia had tossed one of the shot glasses littering the floor around them.

“Alright, mister,” Enyd’s head swiveled to track Frank’s approach, a petulant-looking Zark in tow, “The lady’s had enough, and your boss is out.”

Enyd was set aside, handed off to another goon, as the first toed-up to Frank. “Ha! Human, now that he’s down, honor demands a piece of clothing AND one of you be unconscious!” He brought his fists up, readying himself for the fight.

“Can you try and talk him out of this?” Frank looked at her with a sigh, slower in assuming the fight stance.

Enyd opened her mouth to try that very thing when Zark took over, pushing back Frank with her heel already weaponized in a strike against the goon. The new goon holding Enyd panicked as he watched Zark thrash the first. Without warning, Enyd was thrown against the wall as the Klingon hustled himself out of Zark’s reach and melted into the crowd. Addled by the sudden toss, Enyd slumped to the ground not far from the groaning merchant. She barely had time to register the sudden change in position before a new presence hovered over her, hauling her head up and pressing her face against something warm and vaguely wet.

Enyd’s hands came up to grip the arms of her assailant, only for her hold on the warm flesh to change when the garbled mess of cries above her came together, letting her know that none other than Zark was nearly smothering Enyd against her chest. Enyd couldn’t decipher everything that Zark was saying—the Andorian’s breasts were not very good at amplifying sound after all—but she gathered enough to note something about unfairness and then happiness. Enyd’s head was dropped away from the amble bosom long enough for her to gasp in a much-needed breath of fresh air. She blinked, trying to refocus her gaze on something other than the haze of Zark’s breasts in her face.

“No! Zark!” Enyd’s blinking increased, her hands coming down to brace on either side of her hips. “Don’t do it!”

Frank’s warning made little sense until Enyd’s eyes finally cleared of the blur the continued pressure of breastage against them had caused. Opening her mouth to protest the happiness Zark obviously intended to bestow only worked against Enyd. Before she realized what was happening, one hand coming up to plant on Zark’s shoulder, the other curling into a fist still braced on the floor, Enyd felt Zark’s tongue moving in her mouth, acting as a ferry for the fiery liquor through a hot, very wet, open-mouthed kiss. The taste of the alcohol alone was enough to cause Enyd’s throat to open in a gag, which also sabotaged her efforts to refuse this “gift” her inebriated Andorian friend insisted on giving.

Enyd was no stranger to strong Klingon liquor. She’d managed to hold down two of those odd smoking drinks the rebel leader offered, only becoming goofy tipsy as a result. And with Alistair, it had been those damned chips that had tipped her over the edge and not the firewine—though the combination had undoubtedly increased the effects of both. This stuff, though, was unlike anything else she’d tasted or experienced of Klingon culture up to this point. From the point of contact in her mouth and rapidly spreading through every blood vessel remotely connected to her throat, chest, and stomach, Enyd felt as if a vibrating heat was burning its way into her muscles, threading its way into her bones. Whatever it was, was fast acting. Faster than anything she’d ever drunk before, and rational thought quickly retreated in favor of a burning need to be physical in some capacity. To use her muscles until they screamed at her, to feel the burn of a challenge.

The hand on Zark’s shoulder snaked up, burying its way into the mess of her hair. Yanking down and back, Enyd broke the kiss with a snarl. Her skin felt as if it were on fire, her clothes rubbing further irritation into her rapidly escalating aggressive urges. Hooking a leg over Zark’s waist, she used her ankle braced on Zark’s hip and the grip on the Andorian’s hair to twist Zark off her. Enyd followed the momentum by rolling on top of the blue-skinned woman. She stayed just long enough to lift Zark’s head, almost as if she were about to repay the Andorian with a similar kiss, but then she clacked her forehead intentionally against the Zark’s before continuing the roll with a manic laugh.

Enyd trundled across the floor until her body came in contact with the feet of whichever unfortunate victim hadn’t been paying enough attention to know they should move. Letting out an animalistic growl, Enyd fairly clawed her way up the victim’s legs, finding pleasure in the alarmed yelps they offered once she was firmly planted on their back, her legs wrapped around their waist and her arms looped around neck and head in a clinch hold Frank had taught her. Something inside her demanded she conquer, vanquish, devour. Only a tiny sliver of rational thought remained, cowering in the back of her mind, not exactly begging her to stop but at least chastizing her for doing this in front of her colleagues.

---

Got Zark's dialogue from Rye, FYI.

[Lt. Rhys Williams | D’Takka| Qo’Nos ] attn: @Ellen Fitz @RyeTanker @Dumedion @Eirual @rae

Rhys had asked what had been happening, and Hirek gave AN answer. It was not to Rhys a particularly helpful one. Talia was aiming to prove her mettle apparently, and various other types of mayhem were going on. This had not been what Rhys was hoping for on a culinary tour. He had imagined restaurants with white table clothes, tiny almost no existent courses and people comparing notes on the best place to get Gagh and the right way to serve blood wine. He had expected some element of chaos this was that Klingon home world after all, but this felt like too much for him.

“Entertained… yes… I am sure.” Rhys said in a tone indicating it was more likely to be bafflement and terror. Just another day in the life of a Starfleet officer. His feeling of unease was not loosened by having Hirek and Zark close to each other. Then nightmare of nightmares his obvious discomfort was picked up on by Zark very quickly. Rhys did not have response to even get his brain in gear for a response before Hirek interjected on his behalf in a quite unwelcome way. Rhys could not respond as realisation began to dawn on Zark he stood rigid almost falling into a panic induced coma. His back was ram rod straight and his knuckles white. His jaw was fixed, only his eyes moved from Zark to Hirek and back.

Soon Zark was moved on by Frank as they headed toward Enyd. As Hirek expressed his delight at seeing Rhys again, Rhys simply responded with a “Mmm.” There were so many thoughts going through his head that he could not form a coherent sentence. He felt intensely that having sex wth Hirek had been a colossal lapse in judgement both professionally and personally. Why had he done it? He was attracted to him despite, or may be even weirdly because he was intimidating, Rhys had no desire to more closely examine that bizarre revelation about himself. Also, Rhys had felt strangely sorry for him a man on a ship who was both mistrusted and disliked by most around him. Maybe it was partly deserved but Rhys was a soft-hearted person.

Then there was the additional concern of Zark. Would this revelation hurt her? She was one of the people on board he felt closest to. He hadn’t been sure where they stood with each other after the party. He knew Hirek wouldn’t give a shit one way or the other, he would just find the whole thing amusing, but Zark. He watched her kiss Enyd his eyes wide both frightened and turned on at the same time. How did he feel about it? He wasn’t sure.

Then bottom of the pile of his concerns at that moment was his career. What he had done with Hirek if it was found out by his superior well that could be the end of his career and he had hardly had a stellar one so far.

He gave a little squeak as his shoulder was bumped into by Hirek and the older man asked if he wanted a drink. “Yes… please.” He said meekly. He needed something powerful that was for sure. He allowed himself to be directed robotically by Hirek to wherever the bar was. Almost oblivious to the violence and sexual dynamics exploding around him. A bomb could have gone off and in the wreckage, Rhys would still have been standing stiff as a board staring into the middle distances making gentle distressed noises.

[Ens. Mia Dunne | Luyr’s Cart & G’erc’s Cantina | D’Takka |Qo’noS ]
Attn: @Ellen Fitz @rae @Dumedion  @Juzzie @RyeTanker

Mia started giggling at the sight of Zark kissing Enyd. She didn’t know why she found it so funny. As she took another draw from the drink in her hand she thought to herself that it was starting to get sort of loud again. But even then it sounded to her like everyone was sort of far away.  The new guy, Rhys, seemed to be scared stiff, the way he was standing. That made her start to giggle even more.

She started laughing harder, not really knowing why everything seemed so funny to her. She leaned back in the chair a little to fast ... the chair tipping back and she was too busy laughing to even notice she was about to end up on her back. With a sudden , “Ohh!” the chair went over. Mia’s arms flailed out, sending her drink splashing all over the front of her, and whoever was unlucky enough to be close to her. Her feet flew up as she landed on her back, her head hitting the floor with a loud thud.  For a second Mia saw stars and then she started laughing even more, just lying on the floor with the mug in one hand, and whatever beverage she had been drinking now dripping over her exposed skin and soaking the already problematic dress. “Oopssss! I tippeded,” She said, her words slurring, “Dinksss Spilled, Soo ssad!”

Mia just blilnked up at the ceiling as she debated with herself how to get up from the floor, or if she even wanted to. The room was spinning a bit and she figured she would wait a little till it stopped.

[ Lt. JG Nysarisiza “Nysari” zh’Eziarath | Luyr’s Cart & G’erc’s Cantina | D’Takka | Qo’noS ] Attn: @Ellen Fitz @RyeTanker @Dumedion @Eirual @Juzzie

“Something you should not have drunk, I have no doubt.” Her voice was dryer than Nysari had intended, though the general noise level in the bar probably hid that from all but the keenest ears. That being said, she was looking at Talia with slight concern. “Whatever it is, it is certainly not ordinary alcohol.” The pilots clothes didn’t hide much, leaving Nysari a clear view of Talia’s muscles as they flexed and bulged. A battle stimulant, which was honestly the last thing a Klingon would ever need. They were quite capable of psyching themselves up without any assistance.

Since Talia had already had some, it was too late to do much except watch and see the effects. It certainly was working, the human holding her own against her Klingon opponent. As the contest dragged on, their circle of onlookers grew, jostling and banging into Nysari as they cheered and booed in equal measure. The small shot glasses were flowing freely. Even proximity to them was filling the air with the thick, sharp, cloying scent. The smell was more than enough for her, but the others didn’t want Nysari to stay there if she wasn’t going to partake.

“Andorian!” A jovial Klingon shouted in her year, making her antennae stand straight up with the force of the vibrations. “Drink! In honor of your champion!” What followed was as close to a fight as Nysari was willing to get, him trying to shove a drink into her hand while she tried to politely refuse it. It ended up on the floor, which was a perfectly fine place for it in her opinion, but apparently her new companion didn’t agree. “Never fear! There’s more where that came from!” Accepting the inevitable, she accepted the cup this time, just to shut him up. At this point, Talia was actually winning, slowly but surely pushing the opposing hand down. “Look! The Starfleeters win yet another battle! Drink!” He said it in the same way one might refer to a beloved pet who had learned a new trick. Or perhaps a small child. No didn’t seem to be an option here, so Nysari raised the cup to her lips, the smell enough to make her senses to mad.

Her plan had been to fake it, taking the smallest sip, no more than a drop, and finding a way to drop the rest on the floor. They could see her reaction, have a nice laugh, then hopefully Talia would finish and she could escape. But the Klingon had predicted that, slapping her elbow up at the last moment. Nysari’s mouth opened in surprise – and the entire drink went right in. It burned all the way down, her stomach turning in knots trying to expel it. She gasped as the adrenaline rush hit her, finally managing to force her way out of the circle of laughing, cheering Klingons. Were they louder? It was like someone had turned the volume way up. The alcohol inhibitor she’d received in sickbay earlier hadn’t been designed for this. The entire room was spinning.

At the same time, she felt strong enough to win some arm-wrestling matches of her own. Nysari worked out to keep fit, but she was thin. Weight training didn’t rank high on her priorities. At the moment, she could have gone toe to toe with a Klingon, such was the power coursing through her muscles. She needed—she needed—

She needed some water. What was she thinking?

Unfortunately for her moment of rational thought, the fight found her first. It came in the form of Enyd Madsen, the chief diplomat ramming into her legs and proceeding to haul herself up onto Nysari’s back. Were it not for the Klingon concoction, she would have toppled over at the weight, but somehow she managed to keep her feet beneath her, even as her legs shook. “Lieutenant—Enyd—What are you—” Then there was pressure around her neck, and Nysari reacted on instinct, grabbing on with both hands and trying to pull Enyd’s arm away. Even with her current unnatural strength, she barely managed to keep her airway clear.

And the liquor’s effects were already fading, the inhibitors in her system finding upper ground right when she needed them to fail.

[Lt (JG) XamotZark zh’Ptrell (Lt. Zark) and Lieutenant Frank Arnold | Luyr’s Cart & G’erc’s Cantina | First City | Qo'nos] Attn: @Ellen Fitz @rae @Dumedion @Eirual @Juzzie

Zark didn't know why her head hurt. Or why it her breathing was funny.  It felt almost runny, which made no sense since she didn't remember being sick.   Her hand reached for her face and it came back bloody. That made even less sense.  The Andorian rolled over and planted her hands on the ground and pushed.  It seemed to take way too much effort and her eyes began to lose focus.  There was some blue stuff making pretty splatter patterns on the ground and she took a moment to marvel at it before her arms protested and she collapsed.  Pain and shock spiked through her head as her chin connected with the ground and knocked a few more cob webs loose.  For some reason, the ground was so comfortable, and Zark smiled dreamily as she embraced the fact the world wasn't really on fire or spinning at the moment. "Thish sho nysh." She whispered contently to no one in particular.  "I dink I fell on my boobsh.  They squishy. Want pillow." came the meandering of her mind sans filter as she tried to find something to curl up to.  The blue head moved with syrupy slowness as it searched for something soft to lie on.  "Oh looksh.  Mia fall over.  Nishe pillow, but too far."  She sagely concluded.  Eyes continued looking around, and she spotted a particular Welshman standing next to the Romulan.  "Mmmmm.  Hee yummmy, but too hard for comfy.  No like pointy ear. Enyd no like him."  The head continued to move till it reached the limit allowed by the neck. "Oopsh, no more look thish way." was the conclusion Zark began looking in the other direction.  "This ish hard work.  Oh, mean beardy one.  He be too scratchy.  Why they holden him and he yellin?"  The Chief Engineer's seemed to be able to lock with the insensate Andorian as he struggled mightily to get out of grip the two warriors had him in while they laughed uproariously at the apparent endless hilarity this group of Starfleeters was providing.  "Zark! Zark!" "Oh! He yellin for Zark.......That be me.  Hiiii!~~" A floppy blue hand waved back somewhere behind the prone Andorian.

The beardy one stopped struggling for a moment and stared dumbfounded at what he was seeing.  Zark was wasted and his attempts to get her attention seemed to be filtered through some alcohol induced haze.  The great warrior had been reduced to a a puddle.  "Zark! Get up! Enyd is trying to kill Nysari."  The blue puddle just smiled back and waved "No! Zark! Look the other way! Look towards Enyd! Enyd is over there!" The blue head turned the other way slowly, and it seemed to be working at processing what it was seeing.  The head turned back and the lips began moving. "What did you say??!" Frank yelled back as he tried to heave his arms free. The blue blob slowly pushed itself up, and by some miracle was sitting on its knees.  Zark held her head for a moment and Frank wondered if she was going to throw up.  Nysari really wasn't looking good, then the thing that was supposed to be Zark seemed to inhale and yelled. "Why Enny holding Nysi like that?"  Frank groaned.  He was speaking to a four year old.  The Klingons laughed even harder at the ridiculous display. "It doesn't matter! You've got to stop her!" "Why? Nysi did bad stuff to Enny, so Enny choking her. Besides, don't wanna hurt Enyd."  At that point, Zark began to pout petulantly and she really did look like an adult child as she planted her hands between her legs and shook her head. What the hell did she drink?  There's no way it was the same shot.

Frank was getting desperate.  Whatever Nysari had drunk to stave off Enyd's murderous grip seemed to have worn off and the Andorian diplomat was starting to turn an alarming shade of purple and grey. "Zark! If Enyd kills Nysari, you'll never see her again!" Zark stared at Frank. "Why?" came the confused response and Frank suppressed another groan as it seemed like the Andorian's faculties had left her completely.   "Because the Captain will throw her in the brig, prison, and you'll never see her again!  It was a ridiculous argument, but he hoped she was so wasted, it would cut through the haze of whatever was affecting her ability to think. The blue head shook and looked really sad. What in the hells? Is she crying? Frank's flabbergasted mind flubbed as he tried to comprehend what he was looking at. True to form, tears were streaming down the Andorian's face as she continued to shake her head. "Don't want that! How to stop Enny from hurting Nysi? I know!"  Zark suddenly declared as she perked up.

The Andorian seemed to sway as she stumbled to a stand and wobbled as she looked around for something.  Finding it, she took a meandering course towards the item and picked it up off the ground.  "God damnit Zark!  Put the damn chair down!  We..."  Zark obeyed and dropped the chair.  Turning back, she looked at Enyd and the quite pitiful near motionless Nysari, then shrugged and wobbled her way over.  She managed to snag a steaming mug from an on looker who laughed at the honour bestowed upon him.  His vessel would be the catalyst.  Frank continued to struggle, but the warriors held on even harder as they watched with bright eyed glee at the opera taking place in front of them.  Next to the fighting that had just ended, this was the best entertainment the city had produced in a while.  As Frank watched the Andorian stumble over, a part of him wondered if she was starting to straighten out as her antennae seemed to have slowed their random twirling and seemed to start to settle into pointing at the two shipmates on the ground.  This false sense of hope instead fuelled a sense of dread, especially since he knew the two chaos sisters involved. 

His fears were not unfounded as Zark was Zark; even with sloshing liquid dripping from the cup; the Amazon Andorian walked up to Enyd and very drunkenly casually kneed the brunette in the side of the head. The angry diplomat was stunned and sent sprawling.  "Let me help the other one!" Frank yelled, and this seemed fine to the two warriors as their attention shifted and let go of the Engineer.  Whatever was impaired on the Security Officer, her combat sense didn't seem to be one of them, as she followed and kicked the CDO in the chest as she tried to get up.  A roar went up through the tavern at the reversal though Frank could have sworn he heard a mournful wail come from Zark at the same time.  The kick did the trick though as Enyd appeared to be winded, to which Zark unceremoniously dropped her butt on her friends body.  An indignant and enraged yell was cut off as the metal cup was tipped over, steaming chech'tluth ran like a drunken waterfall mostly into Enyd's mouth.

---

OOC: I have no idea what Zark actually drank, someone else can figure that out.
 

[Ens. Talia "Shadow" Al-Ibrahim | Luyr’s Cart & G’erc’s Cantina | D’Takka | Qo’noS] Attn: @Eirual @Juzzie @Ellen Fitz @rae @RyeTanker
[Show/Hide]Ugh, somethings...wrong. She couldn’t be sure if she was speaking aloud or just thinking; it was too loud, but dark and red, everything was red – dim and flickering like fire. Fire, her muddled brain screamed through the cacophony. Talia’s face scrunched up in a grimace where she lay, half collapsed on the table, teetering on the edge of her seat, straining against gravity. Everything felt slow...dislocated...and through flickering eyelids that just wouldn’t stay open, bodies blurred as they moved around her in a world swimming in and out of focus.

Everyone was yelling. Too loud. Too much going on. Did I win? I won – right? Behind all the ruckus, the pounding rhythm of her heart sent ripples of distortion out in all directions – the room rolled in time with it – like she was stuck in an endless barrel roll. How she managed not to puke at that point was incomprehensible. Talia screwed her eyes shut tight, trying to focus on the voices she recognized: Gramps, yelling, always yelling. Something about Zark. Kali? Is she okay? The fucks goin on?

Dark eyes cracked open, and Talia blinked, dumbfounded at what she was seeing. Moody? Duchess? The blurry, unreal vision wouldn’t fully resolve; her brain just wasn’t working properly. It couldn’t be, because it looked like the diplomats were trying to kill each other. Brows rose as she licked her lips, the taste of blood and stink of her own drool filled her nostrils over the overpoweringly strong scent of sweaty Klingons and smoke. Her body felt like it was made of lead, unwilling or unable to respond as the pilot struggled to pick herself up off the table. “Shomebodies gotta...get them to...shtop,” the pilot mumbled as her eyes fell closed, and everything just...drifted away.

Darkness, then merciful silence – a feeling of weightlessness – until a sharp sting to her neck brought everything back in a rush of noise and adrenaline. Talia bolted awake, bloodshot eyes snapped open to look up at a particularly ugly, scarred Klingon face hidden under a hood. She had somehow sat upright, and glanced around in complete confusion as a device slipped into her cleavage. The hooded Klingon bent close to her ear, meaty hands on her shoulders tensed, holding her in place. From under his seemingly plain robes, a series of jagged, shiny insignias glinted in the firelight which meant nothing to the panicked Wolf. Whoever he was, he looked equally annoyed and amused at the same time.

“Be warned, Starfleet. Mind yourself better – next time we save you, you will regret it. Get your companions and yourself in order. The KDF has better things to do with its time,” he snarled in guttural Federation standard, spittle flying between shards of mismatched fangs.

“Uhhh...huh,” Talia’s face screwed up in a look of utter confusion, but the Klingon ignored her completely to vanish into the crowd. Her head felt like someone had stomped on it, but her vision had cleared and stopped spinning, at least. The female that had challenged her was gone, lost in the crowd of cheering Klingons around the table. Dark smudges of fires surrounded her like little campfires that had been doused in a hurry, still smoking. Shadow coughed, running her hands over her face before her eyes found the prone form of Nysari, then blinked at Zark, who was kicking the shit out of Madsen. Whu th’hell? Talia tried to stand, but her numb legs gave out and she basically rolled out of the chair – the back of her sea-weed-netting top snagged on the corner, giving out with an audible snap – to land on her hands and knees with a grunt.  One shoulder of her top fell loose as whatever the hell that Klingon had injected her with coursed through her system, mitigating the worst of the intoxicating effects of the ritual shots by throwing her body straight into the worst drunken hangover of her life. “Ah fuck – not good,” Shadow mumbled, a second before her stomach finally caught up with the rest of her, churning in a heave powerful enough to take her by complete surprise.

She managed to turn her head, aiming for under the table and away from the prone Andorian, as her body purged itself in a tide of red-tinted vomit. It left her in a high pressure stream, smacking into the floor with a wet splash as her body locked rigid. An eternity later, Talia found herself gasping for air into burning lungs, spitting to clear her mouth and blinking tears from her eyes. Cheers had turned to roars. Shadow wiped her mouth on the back of her hand as she turned to Duchess, wincing at the taste in her mouth as tremors shook her body. Every time she moved it felt like someone was tilting the room, just to fuck with her. Gotta get to Duchess.

“Wha th’hell hap-happened,” Talia slurred as she slowly crawled closer. “C’mon blue lady, can’t...can’t sleep here,” she mumbled to Duchess, then shot Zark a look of confused irritation, and shook her head at Madsen with a gurgled belch. “C’mon we gotta...we-we-we gotta... get it together, or the f-fun police’ll show up,” the pilot mumbled to Nysari almost incoherently, then started shouting out everyone’s nicknames randomly at the top of her lungs for reasons she barely understood. “Wait, listen...f-fuckin’...guys, c’mon!” Shadow gestured one hand around in the air, a wobbled loop that took in the whole place, unsure and not really caring if anyone was paying attention. Zark was wobbly on top of Madsen, who sounded like she was gurgling something. Hirek looked like he was trying not to laugh, standing next to the other man who looked utterly aghast at the insanity taking place. Nysari seemed barely conscious, as Gramps made is way to both of them. Talia panted, almost panicking as her eyes jumped from face to face. “We gotta,” another burp, as she tried to say ‘get’, “it together,” she hissed at all of them, then blinked lazily, looking for Skittish. The pilot spit to the side with a grimace and adjusted the extremely loose top with a shrug of one shoulder. The device, which appeared to be some form of Klingon hypo, fell from between her breasts to clatter to the floor unnoticed.

Droopy, bloodshot eyes glanced at everyone again, as Talia tried to count out loud. She couldn’t see Mia. “W-wait, wait – where blondie go,” she mumbled to Frank as gravity won out and toppled over onto her butt. “Ah, sh-shhhh-shit,” Shadow winced again, holding her head with one hand. “Tell ‘em t’stop... yellin,” she mumbled, shaking her head in a vain attempt to stop the pounding, then looked over Nysari at Frank, who didn’t seem pleased. “M-mistakes were m-made,” Talia hiccuped, groaning as she scooted closer to try and help for what it was worth. Her knee hit something, and she frowned at the hypospray – wondering where the hell it came from – lifting it with one hand to examine it like some lost wonder of the world. “Here. I helping,” she slurred through a drunken smile, holding it out to the engineer. They liked to figure things out, she reasoned. Her drunken gaze swung to blink at Zark astride Moody. “Imma go...h-help,” Talia mumbled, then started to crawl her way over to them, but her hand slipped on a discarded shot glass. The pilot’s face crashed into the floor with a meaty thunk, leaving her on her knees, ass up high in the air, groaning in pain.

[In the alley]

The hooded Klingon approached two of his men who stood leaning against the wall, dressed in similar fashion – inconspicuous, grumbling to themselves over their lot in getting chosen for this shit detail. Warriors weren’t meant to chaperon a group of idiotic off-worlders, even ones as entertaining as this group turned out to be.

Colonel Hauq pulled the hood from his head with a grunt of annoyance, eyes narrowed at his men. He knew it was prudent to keep an eye on the tour, based solely on the reputation of who led it; yet he never could have guessed how disastrous it had become. That...woman, he growled to himself, equally irritated and impressed, but would never let anyone know it. “You have your orders. Watch them – report their activities directly to me,” he growled, then glanced back over his shoulder. “If they have any sense at all, the night should proceed without further incident,” he nodded to them.

“And if they don’t,” one of the warriors sneered.

Hauq lifted his chin before leaning into their faces. “Then deal with them, quietly,” he snarled, “and no killing, or I’ll feed you each other’s guts and leave the rest for targ’s in the wastes. Understand?” The warriors faces twitched in anger, but both nodded. The guard deputy grinned without a shred of humor. “Good,” he turned to spit at the ground, then lifted the hood back up over his head with a curse. “By Kahless’ immortal balls, let this be the worst of it,” he grumbled as he walked away.

[(https://uss-theurgy.com/w/images/archive/f/fb/20160814014820%21W-o1.png) Ens. Via "DixeBee" Wix (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Via_Wix) | Luyr’s Cart & G’erc’s Cantina |  D’Takka | Qo'noS] ] Attn: @Rae  @Juzzie  @Dumedion @ RyeTanker @Ellen Fitz @Eirual
[Show/Hide]

Via had spent her entire day on the rather dreary yet lively planet of Oo'noS. It reminded her much of home actually. The dark and moody accents in areas, the lack of working infrastructure, and the smell.  Of course, it still had too many significant differences for her to confuse the two but it brought up some memories. She hated her home planet and found a weird sense of comfort in walking the streets and existing in the hustle and bustle. It was familiar and while she was non but grateful for the chance to live in a place that wasn't a pisshole that familiarity improved her mood in a way.

The young pilot had spent all day shopping for clothes and a variety of items that she used to be able to purchase back on her home planet but not anywhere in Federation space. Money wasn't an issue for her due to the massive amount of royalties her mother's gang collected from its various amount of racketeering and other criminal operations. Vina Wix. Via's mother ensured every one of her children had a hefty stipend in an off-planet account so they would not have to work a day. That was the only "good" thing Via's mother did in her life, otherwise, she was nonexistent. Her Family's status on top of her sister allowed her to get by in the Megacity she grew up in. Before she left, Fia, Via's sister, managed to reallocate much of her, Via's, and a few of their dead brother's money, into an account that she and her half-sister only had access to. This meant Via didn't have to worry about much in terms of being able to afford things off of Federation worlds, but knowing her sister Fia did put a cap on the amount her sister could withdraw at any given time so Via couldn't physically break the bank.

Having done all she needed to do and bought what she needed to buy, Via sent all her spoils back to the ship and decided to end the day with a drink. Wearing something that matched the dark pallet of the locals, black leather pants, a crop top leather jacket as well as a corresponding red crop top undershirt, various jewelry, and mascara, the young woman walked the streets of D'Takka until she was drawn to the loud commotion coming from one of the local Cantinas.

"Luyr’s Cart & G’erc’s Cantina" it read. Via stood a few meters away from the entrance, adrenaline increasing as the commotion turned into rowdy shouts, cheers, and laughs.

"That's is my fuckin' shit! My ass is gonna get fuckin' shitfaced" she said to herself as she approached the door with a wide smile. She walked by a group of three Klingons, one hooded who all came out at once. Looked like KDF to her and they didn't seem like they enjoyed their time there but Via could absolutely care less. It was time to get turned up!

Right when she entered her eyes widened and her jaw nearly dropped. There were way too many familiar faces all at once, all doing some of the funniest shits she had ever seen. Shadow her fellow Wolf, Zark who was sitting ontop of Enyd and Nysari whom she recognized by her fancy hair. Rhys the Lieutenant from Azrin's birthday party was there along with grumpy grandpa who seemed to be checking Nysari with a rather alert look. Quiet girl, also from Azrin's party was laughing like a Taradosian Hyena on the floor with her boob causally out of her clothes. There was another person whom she didn't recognize or remember. He looked just as grey-haired as frank but with pointy ears and very close to Rhys.

All her friends were there!! And there was actual alcohol too. The young woman's excitement when through the roof as she rushed into the Cantina, grabbed a random mug off of someone's table that was filled with some sort of alcoholic concoction, drowned it down, ran towards the group, climbed on top of one of the tables that were close to them stumbling while doing so, and cheered "Woooooo!! FUCK SHIT UP!!" as she threw her empty mug onto the ground and danced to some internal beat she constructed in her head. "HEY GUYS!!" she yelled down at them. "Whats goooooooooooooooooooD Bitchasses!!!".

Via wasn't drunk. She was just really ready to be.

[Lt. Cmdr Cross | D’Takka | Qo’Nos ] Attn: @Dumedion  @RyeTanker  @rae  @Eirual  @Juzzie  @ob2lander961

Curious if the rumors surrounding the beauty and mystery of the city merited a visit with Hathev, Cross ambled from cart to cart along the seashore. He’d not been in the city long, but already it seemed to carry a certain amount of mysterious beauty that he felt Hathev might appreciate. Since they’d returned from their island getaway some days before, Cross had been even more motivated to find places for Hathev to experience and explore, giving her more opportunities to work through the new emotions into a new equilibrium. He knew he was an asshat when it came to actual conversations about emotions and such, but planning and logistics, he could do. He could logistic the fuck out of something and…

“They’re taking bets on if the Andorian wins another fight.”

Cross looked up from studying a necklace he could picture cradled between Hathev’s ample breasts. A pair of KDF grunts were heading towards a bar further down the seashore, speaking in Federation standard as they went.

“I didn’t know Starfleet knew how to have a good time. I thought they all had a pain stick shoved up their asses.”

Cross shifted away from the cart and watched the grunts momentarily, his eyes moving past the pair to the bar itself. There was a raucous crowd out front near baying with amusement and chanting someone’s name.

“I give you a special price,” the cart vendor tried to lure his attention back.

Cross sighed. He was in no mood to play ‘dad’ right now. And given the shit they were about to face, whoever was in the middle of that trouble down the road likely needed to get into and out of it to work off the angst. Turning back to the vendor, he paid for the necklace at the “special price” and quickly moved in the opposite direction to the bar. He was more interested in seeing how this looked on Hathev anyway. Both with and without clothes on.

[ Hirek tr’Aimne, ever and always amused ]

No sooner had Hirek given Rhys a cup of the sweet but strong stuff they’d been gifted with earlier than Mia ended up on the floor nearly naked again, followed quickly after by a feral Enyd attacking Nysari, a drunk Zark kicking Enyd off Nysari and pouring yet another drink down her throat, a hooded man intercepting Talia briefly amid that chaos, with Talia marginally less out of it immediately after calling for an end to the craziness, only to have another female human leap atop the table and screech out what sounded to be a war cry before smashing her mug on the ground.

“If ever there was a time for an intervention,” Hirek commented to Rhys, giving the counselor a wink, “now would be it.”

Hirek set aside his drink. Intending to intercept the Andorian’s pathetic and violent attempt to save Enyd from herself, Hirek took two steps toward the pair when a painful blast of cold water hit him directly in the side. The force of the sudden onslaught was enough to toss Hirek back, throwing him into Rhys, and tumbling Hirek onto the quickly flooding ground. Gasping in much-needed air, Hirek shook the water from his face and blinked in shock at its origins. He had seconds to comprehend what was happening before another jet of water shot across the bar, smashing into all still standing after the first wave had powered through the crowd.

[ G’erc, so over everything right about now ]

His wife had told him the water jets installed into the front walls of the bar would be useless, a complete waste of credits, yet another example of how idiotic G’erc could be when it came to spending wisely. G’erc felt little remorse for the lack of warning before he’d pressed the button and sent out the first warning jet, knowing his wife had been in the midst of the crowd, trying and failing to control the chaos. That the warning jet hit the crowd head-on was of little consequence to the disgruntled cantina owner. He could handle a rambunctious crowd, but with these off-worlders in the mix tonight, it seemed things had gotten out of hand far faster than normal. The second jet had only been activated because the first had somehow missed his wife and half of the crowd; of course, he wouldn’t tell her that. And neither would his daughter, since she’d been the one to hit the second button, equally annoyed with the high-handedness of her mother.

“Anyone wanting a fight, get out. Anyone wanting to eat, clean up, sit down, and shut up.” G’erc nodded to his son-in-law and daughter, watching as they set out a group of mops, buckets, and rags for the patrons to use to clean up their areas if they wanted to stay. “Those who clean and stay, get a free drink. Those who continue to make trouble will get another bath.” He leaned against the counter, shifting his hand closer to the hidden panel of buttons controlling the jets to emphasize his threat. “Make up your minds, now.”

[Lt (JG) XamotZark zh’Ptrell (Lt. Zark) | Luyr’s Cart & G’erc’s Cantina | First City | Qo'nos] Attn: @Ellen Fitz @rae @Dumedion @Eirual @Juzzie @ob2lander961

Enyd had finally calmed down, which was quite expected after being kicked in the head and pretty much drowned in high proof alcohol.  What the combination was doing to her skin and hair was becoming beyond the pale and despite Zark's inebriated state, she recognized that Eny wasn't in good shape and needed something different to get her through the current round of drink.  Being the ever helpful soul, she began looking around and caught a glimpse of hairy face seeing how the Nysi was.  A sensible option was water, the question was though, where did one get enough water?  There was too much going on for Zark to get someone's attention as she cried out like a lost child looking for an adult.  Then she felt a splash and looked around.  Blue skin was starting to show through her blouse and the mind connected that her shirt was wet.  That meant water!  Looking around again, she spotted a ridged head ugly one start yelling and sprayed the crowd.

"Perfect!" the medic cried as her Eureka! moment struck.  Say what you would about Zark getting drunk on anything, some skills were too well ingrained.  Standing up a with a bit of a wobble, Zark clenched the metal cup in her hand and brought her hand back as far as it would go behind her.  "Zark, what in the hell are you doing?" came from behind her.  With a final look, the cocked arm let loose and the metal cup flew through the gap in the crowd and nailed G’erc in the soft spot on his temple.  The big Klingon's eyes rolled into the back of his head and his face smashed into the bar, and incidentally the button to activate the water jets.  High pressure water massacred the row in front of the bar and sent them careening into the rows behind as the tidal wave swept away bodies, furniture, and anything not nailed down.  "Damnit! Father's head wrecked the controls!" G'erc's daughter cried. "Arghhh!!! I told that pathetic no good [Not fit for translation]" came the angry reply from the wife. "It was a terrible idea to install those things!  We'll be lucky to break even tonight!"

Despite having poured a drink all over her friend, the water did it's part it's refreshing the medic to the point where she sat in the water picked Enyd's head out and began splashing it on her as she used her own body as a break water.  Enyd began to show signs of life soon, and Zark began dragging the acting Chief Diplomat out of the rapidly flooding restaurant.  With life desperately returning to Enyd, Zark managed to get her to stand up and supporting her body with her shoulders, wobbily led her friend out into the street, and maybe somewhere she could try to revive her, hopefully without too much vomit.

"Ohh lookie! Heeyy Via!!"  Zark yelled as she wobble carried past the pilot.

[Lieutenant Frank Arnold]

Frank had no idea that someone that drunk could be that accurate.  It defied every convention on drunkenness. Or maybe Zark was just really lucky at the worst of times.  Although he hadn't been directly hit by the water jet, he had been splashed enough to recognize those jets were heavy duty crowd control.  He also recognized the trouble signs.  Zark and Enyd were in close proximity and with the Andorian's faculties impaired and nobody to stop her, the results would be catastrophic. With Nysari still out of it, Frank exercised prudence and gathered the diplomat in his arms and began to beat a hasty exit.   "Talia! Grab Mia and help her out of here!" he yelled into the chaos as the Wolf looked to be in significantly better shape than the scientist.  Negotiating bodies and water, Frank moved quickly to get out of the zone of destruction as quick as his feet would carry him and his rescuee out into the street.

[Ens. Mia Dunne | Luyr’s Cart & G’erc’s Cantina | D’Takka |Qo’noS ]
Attn: @Ell @rae @Dum  @Juzz @Rye

Mia was watching from the floor where she still lay laughing at everyone’s antics. It was all she was able to do as the drink she’d imbibed was quite strong, and Mia was not accustomed to even drinking alcohol at all. Mia tried to sit up but the chair she was in was making her quite clumsy and part of the chair had caught on the shoulder of the dress. Mia rolled finally to get up, still giggling even at the sound of ripping fabric. The seams holding the left shoulder of the dress gave way and the front dropped in front of her. Mia rolled again to land on her ass as the back of the dress also began to fall and revealed the scar she had tried so hard to keep covered.

Mia was too drunk to realize her wardrobe malfunction and sat there as water came from above and rained down over her head. “Ohhh, it’s raining!  We need to get inside, wait aren’t we inside?” She looked around as the water continued to soak her, plastering the thin fabric to her legs. “It’s raining inside, that’s cool!” She giggled again then tried to stand up, toppling over as she accidentally put her hand on the torn part of the dress, and also adding to the tear along the other shoulder, leaving that hanging on by a thread and a prayer. Mia finally got to her feet, wobbling quite noticeably and tugged on the skirt to pull it off her legs.

Unfortunately, that last thread had no prayer and the other shoulder of the dress gave way as well, both front and back dropping to reveal her upper torso in all its abundant glory.

She thought she'd heard Frank saying something about getting out and she nodded to herself, “Outside, yes, I can do that,”  and staggered towards the door, not even realizing she was giving everyone a clear view of her now freely bouncing and wet breasts.

[Lt. Rhys Williams | D’Takka| Qo’Nos ] attn: @RyeTanker @Eirual @Ellen Fitz @Dumedion @rae

Rhys accepted the drink from Hirek without question. Doubtless a surprising thing to some of the more hostile to Romulans aboard the crew. Maybe even to Rhys himself had he been in more of a position to think about consequences. The chaos seemed to continue around them unabated. Mia who Rhys only vaguely knew was now nearly naked on the floor. Two others were fighting with Zark pulling one of them off the other. There was a scream and the smashing of a mug and Rhys found himself in the position of wanting to pretend it wasn’t happening.

Hirek who seemed very amused, irritatingly so make a comment about an intervention. Rhys was angry, mostly because it was true and as one of the few sober officers around, he knew it would likely have to be him who would intervene. Not for the first time Rhys furiously chastised himself for ever allowing himself to be promoted. He hated overseeing other people. What would happen if he shouted for the chaos to stop, would anyone even listen to him? If he intervened now with this group of people who didn’t seem interested in calming down what was he to do?

However, it looked for a moment like Hirek was going to take this burden from him and intervene. Whether this was because, he cared about those involved, wanted to ingratiate himself, or if the scene had lost its appeal to him, Rhys wasn’t sure. He did not have much time to contemplate it. A blast of water seemed to hit Hirek in the chest, sending the Romulan backwards into Rhys. HIrek was no small man so Rhys found himself crashing into the bar and then sliding weakly to the ground, all the breath driven out of his lungs. Looking up blearily, he saw Zark a metal drinking vessel in her hand primed to throw it. Rhys was not a person who was prone to swearing. Fortunately, his automatic instinct was to say it in Welsh. “Cock un Garth!”. His rare lapse into crudity was justified when the Klingon’s head crashed into the controls causing more jets of water to punish Rhys and Hirek and anyone nearby.

Rhys knew there was no possible way this could end well. The violence was likely to continue and what ever passed for the Law on a Klingon world would soon be around. He doubted that would be pleasant. He also knew that he was with a Romulan, knowing Klingon attitudes to them as well Rhys just about managed to roll an upended table in the way of a jet aimed at them. He grabbed Hirek helping him to his feet. “I’m intervening. Let’s go.” Rhys decided he was getting himself and Hirek out and suddenly the polite and shy Welshman was gone. “Everyone out!” He shouted with very un-Rhys like authority.

 Rhys had played Rugby in his youth and that switch seemed to be on in his head again. He powered through barging through people to get them out on to the street. Fortunately, even though on a few occasions one of his flailing limbs made contact with the face of an irritable Klingon, a huge jet of water dampened the aspirations of getting hold of him.

Soon by luck rather than judgement they were out on the street, dripping wet. Rhys doubled over his hands on his thighs breathing hard. “Why does socialising with this crew have to be so hard?” He muttered irritably half too himself.

[Ens. Talia "Shadow" Al-Ibrahim | Luyr’s Cart & G’erc’s Cantina | D’Takka |Qo’noS ] Attn: @ob2lander961 @Ellen Fitz @rae @RyeTanker @Eirual @Juzzie
[Show/Hide][Djunnya Klaar, owner of The Targ Pit]

Things were good and chaotic now. From where she stood - half hidden behind the door leading to the storage room behind the bar, flexing her burnt fist - Djunnya sneered at her sister who glared back before making her own discreet exit. The shame of the ‘defeat’ to the human mattered little; her dark eyes gleamed at the potential profits that would fill her coffers from the foolish off-worlder’s antics – if they could be corralled to where she needed them to go. She cursed vividly then hid around the corner, laughing as G’erc activated his water jets; it seemed the old fool had finally found a use for them other than to wash the blood and drink off his floor. The Klingon proprietor dug a device out of her robe, which activated with a low beep.

“Monty – bring the skiff around front of Luyr’s and G’erc’s, full VIP package,” she snarled to her Ferengi majordomo, then glanced back around the corner at the ensuing hilarity. The dark haired human, the one that had bested her, was being blasted across the floor by a second wave of water jets. Dyunnya laughed as the hideous human tumbled end over end on all fours to crash into the wall by the door, then cursed as several of them stumbled their way out onto the street. “Make it quick,” she hissed into the communicator. That will sober them up, but not enough. No matter. We can deal with that, the Klingon grinned as she made her own exit through the kitchen, to procure what was needed.

[Talia, a bit worse for wear, all things considered]

Her back hit the wall as the powerful jet of water finally ceased. Talia sputtered and coughed to clear her lungs of liquid, then raked the sopping wet mess of hair out of her face in time to look up in confusion. Everyone was shouting, but one rose above the rest with a cackle she recognized. Via? Shadow blinked, brows knitted at the fellow Wolf, who stood up on a table, laughing and cheering maniacally. “Yo, DB! Where’d you come from,” she laughed, then just shook her head and pulled herself to her feet, dripping wet. The room tilted with the movement, forcing an arm to shoot out to the wall, as the pilot grimaced and smacked herself a few times. C’mon, get it together. It didn't help, only left her even more light-headed and stupefied.

“Whoa, shit,” Shadow wobbled with a giggle. Between whatever was in the hypo, purging her stomach, and the unwanted shower of cold water, Talia was certainly awake – but still very buzzed. At least the room isn’t spinning so much, the pilot groaned.

Then she saw Skittish; the blonde was smiling pleasantly as she half-floated, half-staggered by, with her assets on full display. “Oh shit,” Talia laughed again, then blinked rapidly as she looked around for something, anything, to help. The jets had washed everything not secured into the wall by the door: cups, chairs, tankards, food, but little in the way of clothing. Wait. There, the pilot’s eyes widened at an upturned chair, the shredded remnants of her long sleeved sea-weed ‘jacket’ hung on to it by a thread. “Mia, hold up,” Talia grunted, pulled the garment from the chair with one hand as the other grabbed the blonde by the elbow. “Fucks sake hon, your milkers are bussin’ wide out,” Shadow slurred with a stifled chuckle as she wrapped the wet remnants around Skittish’s torso and bust, then cinched everything tight with a knot at her back, and promptly hoisted the blond up over her shoulder with a grunt.

“C’mon lets get outta here – stop wigglin’,” the pilot chuckled as she spun around, leaning into the wall for support as she stumbled towards the door. “DixeBee,” Shadow howled over her shoulder and Mia’s ass to get the brunette’s attention. “Leggooo,” she laughed, “we’re gonna go do more dumb shit!” Unfortunately, as she turned to do so, Talia felt and heard the thump of the blonde’s head bumping against the door frame. “Oof – so sorry Skittish,” Shadow chuckled, patting the woman’s butt reassuringly, as she left the chaos of the cantina behind.

[Monty, a less than enthused Ferengi]

I don’t get paid enough for this shit. It was bad enough to be stuck in what equated to indentured servitude, due to his idiot brother’s complete lack of financial comprehension. Two years to pay off a debt, the Ferengi fumed. On this shit-hole world, of all places. Not for the first time, he contemplated selling his own organs off and taking his chances – but his mistress’ snarling command interrupted that ludicrous chain of thought. The majordomo sighed, as his beady eyes rolled. “Yeah, sounds promising,” he deadpanned, then cleared his throat and attempted to send a dutiful acknowledgment, but the line was dead. Whatever, he sighed again, tapping the controls into the skiff’s auto-pilot, then massaged the lumps of his forehead, trying to ignore the muted rhythm of the heavy bass that boomed in the passenger compartment behind him. I don’t get paid enough for this shit, he grumbled again, then straitened his shoulders and forced a professional smile on his face as the skiff lifted and spun about. He only had a few minutes to prep for whoever they were picking up, along with Djuunya.

The door slid up vertically behind him, as booming music and multi-colored strobe lights assaulted his senses. The Ferengi paused with typical flamboyance, hands clapped before spreading with faux glee. “Okay lovelies, its show-tiiiime,” he grinned, all fangs, before marching down the center of the pleasure skiff, around multiple dancing poles, clicking his fingers at the dancers and bartender that idled on the cushioned seats; two lithe Orion girls, a tattooed Klingon male, and a Tellarite. “Chop-chop, ladies, break’s over. Shake a tail-feather. Bodou, break out the good stuff and be nice – no biting,” he glared at the Tellarite. “You two,” his fingers wiggled at the loincloth-clad bouncers, both of the Klingon men bulky enough to dominate the rear of the hold, “make yourselves useful and tidy up the VIP lounge. Boss found some high rollers, somehow,” he added under his breath.

The muscled bouncers grunted, then both tried to turn at the same time, only to get stuck. The Ferengi sighed dramatically at them. “How is it you two get paid more than I do?”

[Meanwhile, outside Luyr’s and G’erc’s]

Djuunya carried the tray of steaming cups of milky-white liquid through the crowd, paying no mind to the puddles of water as she sneered victoriously. “Those who seek further entertainment, look no further than The Targ Pit,” the Klingon woman cheered, pumping a scarred fist in the air. The patrons around her voiced their approval and dislike in a roar behind her, as she marched out onto the street to the off-worlders, who looked to be milling around in various states of confusion, drunken topsy-turvyness, amusement, and mild annoyance. Tsk, the Klingon sucked her fangs in disappointment, as she passed between them, right up to the dark-haired one that bested her. The human knelt over another, who seemed to be giggling at nothing where she lie.

“Toast to victory,” Djuunya rasped in broken standard, holding the tray out to the human and her companions. “Refresh spirits – body and heart,” she nodded to them all, “can’t have your drunk asses wrecking my skiff,” she mumbled under her breath in her native tongue, as the night air filled with the distant, muted wub-wub-wub of music from overhead. “Ah, transport comes,” the Klingon grinned, pointing up as her head started nodding to the beat. The Skiff was easily as wide as the street, almost as long as the cantina. Multicolored lights flashed within the craft as it slowly descended to the ground, the pounding bass from the music growing louder every second.

Talia tilted her head up at the Klingon in confusion, then at the sketchy-looking rust bucket of a transport; both sides of its hull lit up in neon colors, flashing various runes and lewd imagery. Shadow figured it would probably fall apart any minute, based on the haphazard hull repairs alone. “Hope you got insurance,” the pilot snorted, then looked around at the others with a wince as she stood up with a slight wobble. “Nu-uh, not again – anyone know what the hell this is supposed to be,” Shadow gestured to the offered drinks; sober enough ask first this time, at least.

[(https://uss-theurgy.com/w/images/archive/f/fb/20160814014820%21W-o1.png) Ens. Via "DixeBee" Wix (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Via_Wix) | Luyr’s Cart & G’erc’s Cantina |  D’Takka | Qo'noS] ] Attn: @Rae  @Juzzie  @Dumedion @ RyeTanker @Ellen Fitz @Eirual
[Show/Hide]

"Wait- where y'alls asses go-"
Before Via could respond to anyone, having been promptly exposed on top of the table, she was blasted point blank by one of the high-pressured water jets which sent her flying backward landing on the hard surface of the bar. While it hurt...a lot...the young woman didn't bend, break, or lose anything. All the commotion coming from everyone scrambling from being massacred by the water jets disorientated Via forcing her to lie down soaked in a puddle while her brain slowly but surely caught up with events.

"What in the ff-" Via questioned as she strained herself to sit up. She looked down at her body and felt soaked, utterly and completely.

"My clothes what the shit, oh hell nah." The woman being the vain individual she was took pride in her choice of clothing. She paid good latinum for 50/50 unreplicated fabric clothing from the most popular designer lines. No one gets away with soaking her outfit, no one.

Standing up slowly dripping wet Via faced the bar and G’erc absolutely pissed.

"You ass better not be tellin' me to be leavin' after you ruined my shit. What don't I make your dumbass cleanin' my shit fuckin' stupid ass, ugly ass, deflector dish for ears havin' ass bitch. Yeah, I know your big ass ears heard me. Y-You know what?" She chuckled and started taking off her jacket and balling her fists. "Im gon to beat your dumbass-" Her train of thought was lost when Talia called after her mentioning 'dumb shit. If she had been drunk things may have gone differently but she was sober and didn't want to leave her friends behind.

"Y'all asses were lucky. Fuck y'all, stupid ass bar." She walked back towards the exit flipping off the establishment, but before she exited she found a filled mug on the table and chucked it at the bar aiming at the Ferengi. "Suck it!" she said before running out.

After immediately feeling the rush of cold air against her wet skin Via went and found the group. She was shivering and hugging herself for warmth. "Stupid ass bar." she said to no one specific. "Made my clothes wet...and shits expensive, like 200 slips dude. Ain't like we got a thermal Fabric Dehydrater on the ship... My ass is cold..." she pouted and sniffled. "What y'alls asses doin' here anyway?"

[Ens. Mia Dunne | Luyr’s Cart & G’erc’s Cantina |  D’Takka |
Attn: : @Ellen Fitz @rae @Dumedion @RyeTanker  @Juzzie @ob2lander961

Mia was stumbling towards the door when someone grabbed her elbow and then said something about milk and busses. It made no sense to her and the confused look on her face was soon replaced with one of shock as something cold and wet was wrapped around her, she let out a little yelp and shivered.

Then she was upside down, looking at the floor and someone’s ass. Mia’s head was pounding and her stomach was not enjoying this ride. She tried to escape, wriggling in the arms of whoever had her. Suddenly her head connected with something very hard and the pounding in her head increased significantly enough to make her groan and she slammed her eyes shut in pain.  That did not make her stomach feel any better and the jostling of her rescuer wasn’t helping.  Something someone said sort of feed through the pounding in her head, “Not Skittish,” She mumbled as she forced her eyes open again and had the same view as before, “nice ass!” Her words slurred as she was carried out of the bar. Pushing against Talia’s back Mia finally groaned, “Down, put me down, I can walk!”

 

[ Lt. Enyd Isolde Madsen | D’Takka | Qo’Nos ] Attn: @Dumedion  @RyeTanker  @rae  @Eirual  @Juzzie  @ob2lander961

It tasted like something had died in her mouth. Grimacing at the groggy ache in her head, accompanying the sickly taste in her mouth, Enyd grasped at anything and anyone who seemed remotely more stable than she felt. There was no telling how much time had passed since the last thing her rational mind remembered—being hoisted to her feet in front of a large Klingon and told she would need to lose clothing in reparation for an error—and her current status. Wet, head and body aching, and feeling all the world as if she were on the cusp of either recovering from a terrible bout of drinking or just about to fall further into insobriety.

Mercifully, the sky was not nearly as bright now as it had been at the start of this failed attempt to experience the more civilized side of Klingon culture. Sucking in the fresh air with an open mouth, Enyd pulled out of the steadying hold on her arms in favor of pressing her palms against the side of the building, head lowered between her arms as she continued a set of meditative breaths. The trolls continued to dance merrily in her head, and the world still felt like it was sashaying on the hips of an Orion dance girl, but at least the building wasn’t moving. Enyd closed her eyes. The world was going through a cycle of focusing and unfocusing in rhythm with her heartbeats. That, with the general misery of how her body felt, tempted her stomach to empty itself of everything she’d ever eaten while also trying for the things she’d contemplated eating.

The voices of her comrades sounded around her, some making more sense than others. Still fighting that strange urge to conquer something or someone, the thorough dousing of water had at least abated the worst of the rush, at least enough that she no longer felt like an alien within her own skin at mercy to violent impulses. Opening one eye, Enyd inwardly sighed when she realized Frank was standing closest to her.

“What in the hell did I do, Frank?” Dropping her hands from the brace, Enyd winced at how tender her muscles felt. “The last thing I remember was…” Enyd frowned, her mind swarming with a cacophony of images and sounds. “Did Zark kiss me?” She tipped her head up to look at her friend and likely one of the only truly sober individuals in the group.

As she waited for his response and explanation for why she felt like someone had rolled a shuttle over her during an aquatic training session, a brightly-lit local transport shuttle swerved into view, its hull flashing with suggestive silhouettes and Klingon script advertisement. Enyd felt her chest rattle from the powerful bass emanating from the craft. Reaching out, she grabbed Frank’s forearm in both an effort to steady herself and as an instinctive move for protection. She was still so out of it; Enyd knew she’d be useless if another fight were to break out.

Glancing at her water-logged peers, Enyd was curious how the majority felt about deviating from the official tour. It certainly hadn’t been living up to her hopes for a relaxing time, though it was living up to stereotypical expectations for what a culinary tour on Qo’Nos might entail. She definitely wouldn’t fault anyone if they’d rather take their chances with what looked to be a mobile exotic dance club over Dessa’s Dining, which was slated to be their next stop for the first true entrée. She leaned more heavily against Frank as the thought occurred to her, how she’d presumed only hours earlier that chaos would break out at the last two stops where the aperitifs were to be had. How naïve she’d been to think Klingons couldn’t combine baked goods and salads with a side of mayhem.

“What do you think, Frank?”

Enyd’s gaze continued over the rest of their companions, body straightening in curiosity when she noted the counselor's presence, Rhys. She recalled how Alistair had spoken about the man, confessing to a boyish attraction to the Welshman during their conversation about the “rules” of their relationship. He looked just as sodden as the rest of them and more than a little perturbed, judging by his red face and stern expression leveled at the Klingon transport. It was equally curious how Hirek stood near the counselor, looking for all the world as if what they’d just gone through was an everyday occurrence for him. The Romulan’s hair stood on end after he vigorously rubbed two hands over his head, sending a spray of water in every direction. Face alight with mischief, he reached out and used one hand to make a similar gesture to the Welshman.

Not wanting to judge appearances with obviously compromised systems, Enyd forced her gaze away, this time stopping when she realized Via was with them. When had that happened? Her lips pulled back into a hesitant smile before she realized that with Via along for the tour now, the chances for further chaos were higher than ever. The pilot lacked social filters and a general sense of social responsibility that was indeed endearing in the more controlled environment of the norms of the ship and Starfleet, but could be perceived as a risk on Qo’Nos. The local could either adore her for her audacity or there would be hell to pay for it. Enyd snorted, laying her head against Frank’s arm as she noted how swimmingly it’d gone so far with two diplomatic staff members readily available. Maybe things would take a turn for the better now that Via was with them.

[ Hirek tr’Aimne ]

After the initial punch of water hit his chest, Hirek had a few heartbeats without air. Rationally he knew he was in no danger of drowning and likely no danger from being murdered by angry, wet Klingons, but irrationally his body had spasmed with a desire to fight as he was thrown back against Rhys, and together they careened to the floor. He heard Rhys swear—Hirek didn’t have to comprehend the words to discern the meaning behind the phrase—once the worst of the water jets were spent. The counselor was the first back to his feet, quick about hauling Hirek up after him. Hirek’s eyes widened with bemused surprise when Rhys displayed a rare side and assertively shouted for everyone to leave just seconds before he barreled through the crowd, making a path for any who followed the glowering Welshman.

Hirek followed right on his heels, admiring both the view of the counselor’s ass and the sounds of the man’s growls as he shoved his way through to the door and on out into the street. It brought a thrill to his blood and had Hirek grinning as his mind recalled their initial meeting and the “counseling session” therein and overlay the memory with this new insight into Rhys’ demeanor repertoire. He couldn’t help but feel curious if there was something he could say or do to trigger this assertion similarly but in a more intimate setting. Smiling up at the sky as his imagination conjured up all sorts of lurid possibilities, Hirek raked his hands over his head.

Hearing Rhys’ complaint about socializing earned a chuckle from the bioengineer, his hand reaching out and shuffling water out of Rhys’ hair in a playfully familiar touch. “Not all hard things are unpleasant, Rhys.”

He heard another complaint, this one expletive-laden, and instinctively reached for his tunic. Hirek stopped, lips pulling back into a smirk. He had nothing to offer this irritated pilot except the now-see-through sleeveless undershirt, and he doubted she’d appreciate it even as a gesture of intended aid. The Klingon proprietor continued to offer their group steaming cups of milky white drinks as she bade them enter her lewd lair of lust-filled delight. Talia hesitated in taking the drink, wiser now, looking around for insight.

“It is chech'tluth,” Hirek offered, running his hands over his arms and neck to collect the largest bits of water and shake them off, “strong earthy taste with an odd honeyed after effect.” He caught the Klingon woman’s gaze and noted her growing annoyance as he continued, “Offered in celebration and ceremonies. It pairs nicely with saccharine or oily dishes, though it is a bit rough on its own, especially on an empty stomach.” Not wanting to visit more wrath upon their heads so soon after their soaking, Hirek questioned the proprietor, “Does this pit offer food along with the fun or should those more famished seek sustenance elsewhere?”

The proprietor’s nostrils flared. She glanced over her shoulder at the open door to the transport, signaling with her gaze for a few of the dancers to move into view as a further form of advertisement. Hirek noticed then that the woman had an earpiece, and from the way she was tipping her head to the side and studying the rest of them before answering, it seemed as if someone was guiding her in the best response.

“You are wanting to experience more Klingon fares, no?” her lips pulled back into a predatory grin. “Let us take you. Forget whatever suggestions your tour guide gave you. We know the best places to get delicacies that will make your mouth water.” Having also heard the complaint from the pilot, her smile turned positively feral when she cast her gaze upon the dark-haired woman. “Let us warm you up. Inside you’ll find every amenity to restore your comfort.”

Hirek inwardly laughed but knew better than to hint at his feelings about the situation. He’d joined this tour to get to know Enyd better and had been gifted with even greater opportunities to bond with other crewmates in the meantime. It seemed chaos was his friend in this, and he was curious how the others would respond to this too-good-to-be-true offer.

[ Lt. JG Nysarisiza “Nysari” zh’Eziarath | D’Takka | Qo’noS ] Attn: @Ellen Fitz @RyeTanker @Dumedion @Eirual @Juzzie @ob2lander961

Her strength had given out, and Nysari rather lost track of what was going on after that, the entirety of her limited and waning focus centered on struggling to breathe. Enyd was a petit woman, but she was strong. Either the chief diplomat worked out a lot, or that Klingon drink really did pack a punch. Either way, Nysari knew she was screwed.

When the pressure vanished, Nysari didn’t question it, didn’t look around to see what had happened, or do anything at all besides take deep, painful breaths. All of that could wait. At the moment, she was grateful for air. Even this air, reeking of stale alcohol, Klingon sweat, and blood, was the sweetest thing in the universe. This was why she hated fighting. Talking was far less painful.

Eventually, someone picked her up and made her move. Nysari didn’t fight it, though her body didn’t appreciate it at all. Laying still for a while longer would have been better. Everything was still a blur, a rush of humanoid shapes among cold drops of what she fervently wished was water, though likely someone was throwing yet more booze at them. She didn’t even know who was dragging her out, the Andorian was just along for the ride. Outside was definitely better, that she would readily admit. Deposited against a wall by Frank – of course he’d been her rescuer, a gentleman to the end, that one – she leaned back and let the world slowly refocus, coughing instinctively as she tried to clear her swollen throat.

The arrival of some sort of party vehicle, just when she was finally coherent enough to recognize it, was not welcome.

“It is time to get off this ride, for me at least,” she announced, horrified at how weak and hoarse her voice was. It felt like a struggle to get the words out at all, completely lacking in her usual trained and measured cadence and tone. “I am scheduled for another trip to Qo’noS tomorrow. If I do not visit sickbay now, I will not have a voice for my work.” Also, it hurt, but she wasn’t about to confront her department head for actions outside of Enyd’s control. “Please, excuse me.”

She did not offer an opinion on their next location. One place in this city seemed equally as dangerous as any other. Really the question was just whether they wanted to continue or not. Nysari would leave that up to them. She made her goodbyes, took a step away from the group, and pulled out her combadge. “zh’Eziarath to Theurgy. One to beam back to the ship.”

A few moments later, the diplomat vanished in a shower of light.

Sometime earlier…

[ Lt. Cmdr Jaru “Janus” Rel | Onok’s Bakery | D’Takka | Qo’noS ]

The bug – or whatever the fuck it was – made a satisfying crunch as he smashed it beneath his boot, the lone escapee from the Klingon extermination squad fumigating the local bakery. Janus didn’t speak a lick of Klingon, but he didn’t need any to figure out the source of the proprietors’ displeasure as they argued with the exterminator. Whatever they were using as bug spray smelled toxic as shit. All of their merchandise was probably in there melting.

“I’m really missing the party,” he commented with a snort, trying and failing to remember all the tour locations he'd read before coming down here. Recently dethawed, released from sickbay, and fresh off an informative conversation with Ghost, Janus had returned to his quarters. Only for the computer to refuse him entry, because – surprise! – it had been three fucking months, and those weren’t his quarters anymore, no matter what coup attempt Ghost was planning from the brig.

Rather than admit his homelessness and request a new berth, Janus had decided on a distraction instead, trolling the ship’s internal information network for something to do. While a culinary tour sounded boring on paper, he had always admired the Klingon ability to turn everything into either a drunken party, a fight, or both. This had to be a pub crawl in disguise. Too bad he was late, and had no idea where the group had gone next. Pretty much the theme of the day for him.

“Ah well, I’m sure I’ll find them eventually.”

[Ens. Mia Dunne | D’Takka | Qo’noS ]
ATTN: @Ellen Fitz @rae @Dumedion @RyeTanker @Juzzie @ob2lander961

Mia wanted off this ride soon or she was going to hurl. Her head felt like a shuttle was banging around inside her brain and she was getting more dizzy every second.  Lifting her head slightly she could see some of the other crew who had come on the tour, along with some other crew that had somehow joined in the mix. “Ohh, new peoples!  Where they come from?” She giggled as she looked around, despite her queasiness and noticed that several of them were quite wet. She was confused as to how that could happen  for a moment then her eyes opened wider as if she knew the answer, “Ohh,  iss raining. “  Her rescuer had yet to put her down, but at the moment that might not be such a bad thing as she wasn’t in any shape to even stand on her own.

Mia patted Talia’s back, “You know what?? I love you guys, and the one wifoud a shirt...” she giggled again as she remembered, “he had a salad coat. Did someone eat it?”  As she was carried out she caught a glimpse of Zark and she put one finger over her lips, and whispered in a loud druken mannor, “Shhh, be careful, don’t want to be a pretzel!” 

Mia started to giggle again, “a singing pretzel maker, Zark is” she sang badly, “bend you up and put you on a shelf.” Mia could not keep her mind focused on any one thing. She looked around at the lower half of her crewmates, as she could barely lift her head anymore, “You guys are great! I love you guys!”

Soon after that her eyes closed as the alcohol seemed to hit her again, “Ohh, I thin I goin ... sick...”

[(https://uss-theurgy.com/w/images/archive/f/fb/20160814014820%21W-o1.png) Ens. Via "DixeBee" Wix (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Via_Wix) |  D’Takka | Qo'noS] ] Attn: @Rae  @Juzzie  @Dumedion @ RyeTanker @Ellen Fitz @Eirual
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Everyone seems to be worse for ware as Via watched the group stumble around in various states of alertness. Nysari seemed to have enough of whatever had happened and left. The young pilot couldn't figure out as to why she did, she wasn't close enough to her and Frank to actually enquire but she waved goodbye regardless.

Via was still shivering and had half the mind to take off her soaked expensive leather jacket. She tried shaking it out to no avail causing her to groan loudly. "Fuckin- dumbasses...messin' with my jack- hmm?" She spotted something across the street. Two stores, both were in Klingon but had signage that Via found all too recognizable. It was a Ferengi pawn shop and a Klingon Weapon store right next to each other, it made a light bulb go off in her mind. Her jacket was ruined there was no doubt about that, but she did know if she pawned it she would probably haggle to get at least a third of her money back especially since it was genuine Normidian Skull Cat designer leather. She also, quite impulsively, wanted to buy a disruptor ever since her original one she had since she was 11 got confiscated by Starfleet Security as "evidence" when she crossed over into Federation space. Via was promised she would get it back but since her situation has changed she was having doubts she ever would.

After looking toward the group to see if anyone was paying attention, Via would sneak away briefly making her way towards the pawn shop. A minute of shouting and haggling later she left the shop with 350 Strips. In the next minute, she left the Weapon Store with one Disruptor Compression Pistol at a bargain of 250 Strips of Latinum cause Via amused him when she threatened the quartermaster in broken Klingon. He wanted to see how long she would live so he practically handed her the disruptor which looked used and worn out but the young pilot didn't mind.

Walking out Via celebrated and danced with her newly purchased pistol pumping it in the air and waving it around playfully. She was now damper than she was wet but with her purchase taking her mind off of that fact she felt pretty content. She celebrated until she returned back to the group where she would shove the pistol behind her back into her pants. The woman tried to sneak back in as if she had never left, not wanting to draw attention that she did by a disruptor cause she didn't want to be taken away from her again. She looked towards the party bus and then at the rest of the group. A Klingon who she assumed was also a part of the group was handing out some white type of liquid which Via promptly took and drank assuming it was going to get her drunk. She forced a burp and threw the cup onto the ground.

"Woooo!!" She cheered and raised her hands in the air. Via then looked towards the party bus. "Shitballs, that's our ride?!" she said with childlike enthusiasm. "Can our asses go on? Pleaseeee?" She looked at Talia then the rest of the group.

[Lieutenant Frank Arnold & Lieutenant Enyd Isolde Madsen | Outside Luyr’s Cart & G’erc’s Cantina | First City | Qo'nos] Attn: @Ellen Fitz @rae @Dumedion @Eirual @Juzzie @ob2lander961

The Chief Engineer helped Nysari back to her feet after they'd made their hasty exit.  He'd been amongst the first and this gave him the opportunity to place his rescuee somewhere out of the way as the rest of the waterlogged had spilled out onto the street. Standing up, Frank took a moment to give himself an inspection and he realized he was mostly dry and none the worse for wear.  Each person that followed however looked worn or wet in some way shape or form.  Enyd and Zark looked like they'd just gotten out of a wet wear competition, while Talia had something to do with swimwear and exiting the ocean.  The Romulan and the other human were the counter parts to Zark and Enyd, while the scientist.  Frank groaned and cupped his forehead with a large palm as he was treated to the sight of someone utterly bereft of anything resembling clothing.  At this point, he was ready to call the whole thing off when Zark waved him over with an inebriated pouty look.  "You watch her or I'm gonna drop your ass."  Frank blinked and took a deep breath as he had to remind himself that the Andorian was drunk and had no idea what was going on.  She then appeared to make her way to Mia.

The Chief looked at the trip organizer with a wry smile as her senses came back to her.  Looking Enyd over, her normally well organized mane was a wet ferret and despite the water, the side of her head was starting to turn red.  When Enyd's brain finally completed rebooting, a very understandable “What in the hell did I do, Frank?” came out and despite the situation, he had to grin.  The loading process continued with her and the buxom blue hellion locking lips and the bearded man knodded then blew out some air as he tried to figure out if there was a way to explain what had happened to her. "I can't really say for certain Enyd, but after your uhmmmm encounter with Zark, she dumped something into you gullet and then you knocked her over, rolled around a bit and grabbed Nysari then I think you put her in a full Nelson."

"I...did...what?" Enyd rubbed her tongue against the back of her teeth, still tasting whatever nasty concoction Zark had forced into her. "Is that why Nysari looked so...bedraggled? I did that?" In this moment, Enyd felt far closer to failure than she'd felt in a long time. She'd only just been named the CDO and had led Nysari and the rest of the department through what she felt to be a fairly useful and enlightening team-building exercise that very morning. Only for Nysari to face down an entirely undiplomatic--in anything, feral--side of her CDO. If ever a woman had a right to feel conflicted, potentially scared or threatened, and exceedingly disappointed, it would be Nysari. Granted, Enyd didn't know yet if that was what the Andorian was feeling, but if the shoes were on other feet, Enyd might've been feeling that way. "Frank, I need to go apologize." A wave of nausea gripped her as her head resumed its pounding. Whatever the positive effects of the concoctions had been, they were rapidly leaving her system now. Abandoning her to sore muscles, agonizing headache, and a surely gut. "Maybe after a quick stop in sickbay?"

Frank could see the signs of impending forced discomfort and he led Enyd to a bench then began gently rubbing her back while she wallowed in misery. This have a him a few moments to consider her situation and the cliff she was standing on. Blowing out his cheeks, Frank drove on. "Yeah, an apology is definitely in order, but as a friend of mine in the JAG Corp put it, there were factors outside your control." Frank stopped rubbing as he crossed his arms into his favourite thinking pose. "I would like to say Zark is at fault, buuuut." sigh. "Standards are different for Klingons." He looked up to see several wet Klingons laughing uproariously as they began gesticulating and bashing their heads together. A few were pointing at Zark and pushing each other to go first. One was pointing in their direction and the engineer realized he was pointing at Enyd, so Frank moved a bit closer to cover her. It didn't seem cowardly on the Klingons part, more bashful and the Chief shook his head ruefully. When Enyd mentioned sickbay, he looked at her and gripped her chin then turned her head, much in the same manner he used to examine his sparring partner when she didn't dodge a punch well. "Yeah. A quick stop in sickbay sounds. I think you're starting to get a welt on your face from where Zark kicked you to get you off Nysari."

"And she may be a menace, but at least she saved Nysari from me." Enyd sighed. Glancing down at her sodden dress and reaching up to tug at a few loose tendrils of soaked hair, she smirked. "Probably didn't expect that type of a fight from me. Distract them and take them by surprise. You taught me that." On her next sigh, Enyd leaned against Frank's warmth, lightly punching his gut with a feigned uppercut. "Did she really kick me?" One hand went to the rapidly darkening bruise on her face while her eyes darted over to study the clonking boots that Zark favored. "That fact that I still have a face is proof that she is not so drunk as we think she is or that her love for me supersedes her inebriation. Either way," Enyd grimaced, "I could really use a painkiller, a hot shower, and a cup of tea. After I apologize to Nysari. If she doesn't turn tail and run at first sight me."

Frank oofed obediently and nodded in agreement at how he'd taught her to fight and snorted his wry amusement at Enyd's assessment of the combative Andorian. "It could also be a case of she gets more effective the more drunk she is." He gestured up and down Enyd's sopping wet body. "You're this way because she threw a metal cup at the water operator. Hit him dead on the temple. Damndest thing I ever saw." A big finger tapped his own temple for emphasis. "Incidentally it's the cup she used to pour some sort of steaming liquid all over you." Frank gently waved a hand in front of his nose since he could smell it, but it wasn't anywhere near as bad as some of the chemicals Engineering had to deal with. "It's not as bad really since Zark 'inisisted' on cleaning you up first, which is why you're all wet." He exhaled for a pause. "I don't think you should have too many issues with Nysari. It should all be in a days work for a diplomat to deal with misunderstandings and strange situations. If she's in sickbay, she can't really get away either."

"There are old Earth movies about drunken fight masters." Enyd shook her head and immediately regretted the action. "Their fighting efficiency increases with every drink." Pinching the bridge of her nose, Enyd breathed through a wave of pain before adding, "A captive apology does sound like a good idea. Are you heading back also?" Enyd opened her eyes and looked up to Frank, a portion of her hoping he'd stay to ensure everyone's survival, and also a more selfish portion of her hoping he'd go with her to offer both physical and emotional support as she faced Nysari and that much-needed apology.

Frank stared at the group as they gathered themselves and he shook his head as the blue chaos ball went to try to cover up the naked scientist with her own blouse, but since it was soaked through, it did very little to hide the figure underneath while Zark was now holding onto Mia while covered by only her bra.  Considering the way the night was going, there was a good chance she was going to lose that as well.  "I think you're right.  I'm not sure who really organized this little jaunt, but they still have a lot to do in making it more about the food.  I need a real Scotch.  Maybe a BLT with some fries too."  The Chief Engineer puffed his cheeks as he heard Nyrsari transport herself out.  "I should also head back to the ship and check up on Marika.  Not sure how this little experiment in controlled chaos went for her, and I do need her to help me keep the ship running."  Looking over at Enyd, he gave her a reassuring smile.  "Yes, I'll be there when you talk to Nysari and smooth things out if I need to.  I think you'll do fine though, especially now that the war juice is out of your system."

Her stomach growling in anger from the drinks on an empty state, Enyd grimaced. Linking her arm in Frank's, she leaned against his side. "Can you double the order? Once Elro magics me into health, and I hopefully make things right with Nysari, I think I'll be ready for a real meal too."

"I think something can be arranged" The bearded engineer drawled as he patted the top of Enyd's hand comfortingly.  Helping her stand up, blue eyes surveyed the scene and to say he was dismayed was a bit of an understatement. As much as he would have like to impose some order, the crew was on vacation and were free to do as they wished. He initially thought Zark would be the best to leave in charge, but she was too busy happily rubbing her cheek on Mia's. Talia didn't seem to be in the best shape either. His eyes settled on a human sitting next to the new Romulan and Frank remembered him being part of the crew  and had to dig a bit to get his name. When the name came up, he walked over to Rhys Williams with Enyd still in his arm. "Mr. Williams, glad you took the opportunity to join this.... outing. We're headed back to the ship to tend to the injured and track down a few people. We hope you and everyone else enjoys the rest of this... excursion."

Nodding to counsellor, Frank looked at Enyd for confirmation of readiness and was about to tap his combadge when a pair of blue arms wrapped themselves around Enyd's waist. "Aaaand where are you two headed?" Came a rather breathy and flammable inquiry from behind. "Are you leaving me behind?" The blue hellion asked demurely which could not have been true given her state of undress and the fact she giggled afterwards.  "Zark, we're just headed back to check up on Nysari and Marika, especially after what they've been through tonight."  Said Andorian let go of Enyd and slipped around the front and Frank sighed at the sight he was being given as he rubbed his temple against the oncoming headache that would probably require triple Scotch to combat.   "But there's still the rest of the tour, and now we gots Via!  Ya know it's going to be a night to remember!" "It already is." Frank muttered under his breath, but not apparently quietly enough as Zark planted her fists on her hips and pouted in his direction.

"Zark, we're going back." Enyd held up her index and middle finger, pointing them first at her eyes and then jabbing them in the direction of Via, "keep that one alive." Frank held his breath for a moment wondering if a fight was going to break out between Enyd and Zark, but the conflict never came as Zark simply shrugged. "Okay, you two have a nice trip back and give this to Nysari for me."  The Zhen ended by planting a kiss on Enyd's cheek.  "And sorry for kicking you earlier." She apologized before placing another softer one on the growing bruise. "See y'all later!"

Frank shook his head at the sight then tapped his combadge just as a ridiculous cacophony showed up. "Arnold to Theurgy. Two to beam to sickbay where Lieutenant Nysari is."

"Acknowledged Sir" came a disembodied voice. "Energizing" and the blue and white shimmer took the two remaining senior officers back to the ship.  Frank's last sight was Zark happily bounding towards Mia just as Via arrived back with her haul.  He was quite sure his and Enyd's thoughts were along the lines of This won't end well.

[Lt (JG) XamotZark zh’Ptrell (Lt. Zark) | Outside Luyr’s Cart & G’erc’s Cantina | First City | Qo'nos]

The bounding blue chaos ball reached the evidently very hammered naked blonde and grabbed one arm to haul her up. "We totally love you too!" Zark being Zark planted a big kiss on Mia's cheek before looking around and seeing Via. "Heeey Via!!~  Nice find! Hey! Hey!  Grab the other arm and lets get her into this rusty carnival!  We gots to see if they have any armour that's gonna fit her!  Maybe they got more crazy tour stuff in there!  Talia!  Ya know you don't wanna miss this!  Come on!"  The Zhen yelled ecstatically as she looped an arm under Mia's shoulder to keep the party going.

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OOC: Thank you Ellen for the JP work

[Lt. Rhys Williams | D’Takka| Qo’Nos ] attn: @Ellen Fitz @RyeTanker @Dumedion @Eirual @rae @ob2lander961

Rhys was glad to see that he was not the only one who had managed to get out on to the street. HIrek seemed impressed at what Rhys had done and mussed up his now soggy hair in an affectionate way that made Rhys blush. It had the other affect of calming him down. All the adrenaline went from his body. Similarly, the anger that had threatened to boil over dropped into a gentle simmering again.

Drinks were offered around the hapless crew as they tried to dry off. Some of his compatriots Rhys felt were in no position to continue this tour. Some were in poor states of dress with little left to the imagination. Some looked like they were about to throw up and who knows what else. Worst of all Lt. Frank Arnold and his compatriot took that time to return to the ship with some of the more seriously out of it.

This left Rhys in a nightmare scenario for him. He might well be the responsible one left. It was possible as he looked around that someone of the people around him were the same rank or higher. Ruined uniforms made the tough to tell. However, what was clear was he was one of the few still in full possession of his faculties. This was the kind of thing Rhys HATED. The idea of being responsible for other people in this way was terrifying to him and completely at odds with his personality.

Rhys sometimes thought of himself as naive but even he could see that the Skiff that had pulled up promising to show them yet more Klingon delights was deeply sketchy.  It seemed many of his compatriots were eager to get on board. He knew attempting to stop them would involve him having to exercise his authority (a laughable concept in his view). Maybe that would work if everyone was sober, but he doubted anyone would listen when they were drunk. He doubted Hirek would listen to him at all. In the end the most that happened as he saw, Via Stark and Talia look like they were stumbling into the transport was a half-hearted. “Maybe this isn’t a good idea?” He had no idea who had organised this thing, but the part of him that quietly bubbled with anger desperately wanted to give that person a piece of his mind.

In the end the only thing he could do was go along and make sure everyone was ok. Plus, he knew how stressed the crew had been and how much of an outlet they needed. He sighed a big sigh and looked at the Klingon who seemed to be running the transport. “Just be gentle with them, as you can see some of my compatriots are worse for wear.” He said heading to the transport with a deep sense of foreboding.

[(https://uss-theurgy.com/w/images/archive/f/fb/20160814014820%21W-o1.png) Ens. Via "DixeBee" Wix (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Via_Wix) |  D’Takka | Qo'noS] ] Attn: @Rae  @Juzzie  @Dumedion @ RyeTanker @Ellen Fitz @Eirual
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Seeing everyone looking like they were having the time of their lives only made Via pout a bit internally. She NEEDED a drink, feeling like she was missing out on whatever Zark and Mia were drinking. The one that she grabbed earlier hadn't sat in yet (assuming it was alcohol). She was sad to see Enyd and Mr. Grandpa beam out from the corner of her eye. The young pilot just got there and people were already leaving. She didn't even have the chance to say hi to Enyd. Still, the show must go on, no way she was going to miss the opportunity to party and get hammered. No telling when she may end up stuck in sickbay for 6 months again so Via was all for living her bad habits to the fullest. Her friends being there only made it all that better.

"Carni-wha?! The fuck is that? Zark girl, you're 'greemed' and be makin' so sensel" She chuckled at the duo and went over to grab Eiural's other arm supporting her.

Via looked over to the both of them with a smirk on her face. "Y'all better stop hidin' the good stuff! I know you are!" She said to Zark and Eiural alluding to them keeping some sort of alcohol stash somewhere. Before stepping on the transport and looked back for Talia and the other guy, shouting back. "Come on Shadow!! Let's rock this shit uppppp!!! Don't forget...uh my ass forgot its name. That guy there, Wess or somethin'" she proceeded to get on the bus with the others.

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"Greemed" Slang for Drunk

[Ens. Talia "Shadow" Al-Ibrahim | Luyr’s Cart & G’erc’s Cantina | D’Takka |Qo’noS ] Attn: @ob2lander961 @Ellen Fitz @rae @RyeTanker @Eirual @Juzzie
[Show/Hide]Chech'tluth, huh, Talia rolled the word around in her head as she took a sip, a brow arched at their newly acquired hostess – the apparent owner of the sketchy-looking skiff. She wasn’t entirely sure, but it seemed to be venting gases in odd places; the more her eyes scrutinized it, the more uneasy she felt about getting on the damn thing – so Talia turned her attention to the cluster of officers off to the side in a huddled conversation: Gramps, Moody, Kali, Duchess. As the taste and heat of the drink hit her, the pilot grimaced as she swallowed, but managed not to spit the liquid out. Ugh, fuck sakes, Talia shivered and tried to shake some of the water out of her hair.

Then she realized Via seemed to have vanished. Not wanting to interrupt the others, Shadow paced around, trying to figure out where she went. The hell? She was right there a second ago..., her path led her around the far side of the skiff, out into the street, still holding the mug of steaming...chech-whatever...she sighed...eyes narrowed at all the festival goers. Still no Via. Back on the other side of the skiff now, Talia turned the corner around the rusted-looking cockpit just in time to see Frank, Madsen and Nysari beam out back to the ship. Zark was hauling Mia up and headed in the transport. Via was right behind her – Hotlips and Pretty-Eyes lingered.

Talia cocked her head, confused. “Wait...why’d they leave,” she gestured to the air, then followed Zark, Mia and Via inside with a chuckle. “Oh, I’m sure they’ll be gentle,” she paused, throwing a smirk at the two remaining males of the party. “You two coming, or what?”

[Djuunya’s Skiff, aka Party Bus to Hell]

After the initial hesitation upon entry, Talia found herself a relatively quiet spot at the bar and focused on keeping her drink from spilling as the skiff bounced around in transit – which was hilarious, because it seemed to be deliberately timed with the pounding music and strobing lights. The poor dancers (the ones actually dancing, and not lounging over a particularly round, old Klingon near the rear with entirely too much jewelry on and not enough clothes) seemed to take it all in stride.

Her eyes flicked from them, her drink, then over to Via who was...well...doing Via things. She wondered where the others got off to, when the Tellarite bartender barked a question at her. “No I don’t want to try an Orion Hurricane, I already told you,” Talia shouted back over the music. “I ordered chicken wings,” she shook her head, gesturing in a whats wrong with you manner.

Roaring laughter reached her ears, and Shadow looked back at the source. The fat Klingon was getting a lap dance now, and the dancers seemed to be sniffing a glittery substance off each others bodies.

“Huh. Wonder what that is,” she asked no one in particular, then spun back around to keep an eye on everyone while she waited for whatever the Klingon equivalent was for chicken. Her eyes settled over Via, after a particularly loud burp – even for her. Talia realized with a snort of amusement that the fellow Wolf had apparently grown a tail, judging from the lump above her ass. Talia narrowed her eyes at it, taking a sip of something blue and cold and slightly numbing.

“Uhhh…,” Shadow huffed a laugh, then hollered Via’s name several times to get her attention. “Girl, I got questions,” she nodded at the bulky outline of what Talia hoped wasn’t what she thought it was.

[ Hirek tr’Aimne |Djuunya’s Skiff, aka Party Bus to Hell, D’Takka | Qo’Nos ] Attn: @Dumedion  @RyeTanker  @rae  @Eirual  @Juzzie  @ob2lander961

Having been a part of many a terrible idea and witnessed even more, Hirek knew this so-called tour was no longer in the realm of barely controlled and had now ventured into the unknown. He hadn’t seen the brochure nor the itinerary, but he highly doubted someone like Madsen—at least the Madsen he’d been exposed to—would sign up for a tour that included a…transport of this caliber. Hearing Rhys’ sighed-out words soon after Madsen and Frank disappeared back to the ship, Hirek laughed.

“It is undoubtedly a terrible idea but,” he was interrupted by the newly arrived feral one first as she hoisted herself inside the vehicle and then Talia, marginally less feral looking but no less dangerous, who also prompted a response from himself and the Welshman at his side. Snorting again, Hirek looked askance at Rhys, “I would rather be a part of this terrible idea than walk away from it.”

The skiff was vibrating from the music when he stepped in, the beat so overwhelming it made it almost a distant memory, any thought of what a natural sound such as a bird of the sea could be. Hirek navigated through the crowd of dancers and found a seat on a curved couch near the pilot's chamber. He could feel the music pulsating through him. From this vantage point, he could see both known exits and be able to reach the pilot if something terrible happened—which he presumed would happen. His smile turned upward when he spotted Rhys’ handsome features moving in the crowd; the counselor had followed in after all, though he didn’t seem particularly pleased with his decision.

“Care for the Breath of Kortar?” One of the Orion women held out a platter filled with zigzagging lines of a glittery substance. On his way toward the couch, he’d seen some other patrons and dancers sniffing it. Picking up a thin sheet of what felt to be paper, Hirek used the serving brush to sweep some onto the paper. He nodded to the dancer and waited until she walked away to offer her wares to others before he neatly folded the paper, sealed it, and tucked it away in his pocket. He was curious what the Breath of Kortar was made of; perhaps it could be repurposed.

Another serving girl, a voluptuous woman with speckles up and down the sides of her neck and arms, leaned over—giving Hirek a full view of her chest and down her skirt to her womanly folds—and offered him a drink: The Nectar of Qui’Tu. Hirek accepted the glass but didn’t drink. Instead, he grabbed a napkin from the low table before him and dipped it into the orange liquid that smelled of herbs and spices. This, he put into another pocket. He smiled. He’d barely been on this skiff twenty minutes, and he’d already been given access to two substances he’d never encountered before and couldn’t wait to study once back aboard the ship. Patting his pocket with a sense of delight, Hirek looked around at the others in their group and laughed. It seemed he was enjoying their new circumstances in an entirely different manner than the rest of them.

[[bolor=lightseagreen]Ens Mia Dunne[/color] |Djuunya’s Skiff, aka The ‘What did I get myself into’ Transport, D’Takka | Qo’Nos ]

Mia felt herself being led, or rather dragged along by someone she sort or recognized from the Theurgy Crew. Her vision was swimming, so it was a little hard to tell who it was. Loud thumping and screeches got louder as she stumbled up some steps and finally was deposited in a seat. Mia wanted nothing more than to lie down and stop the world’s rotations but instead she found herself sandwiched between a wall that seemed to be vibrating with the music and a rather loud female. Mia felt her seat sort of rumbling beneath her, and she kept bouncing, her head slamming into the wall repeatedly as she tried to keep from losing the contents of her stomach again.

She giggled at the thought of her regurgitus making more room around her since most people usually disliked being near such things.   Wherever she was, it was not helping her feel any less dizzy. She glanced around and saw some of the other crew and a drunken grin spread on her face. “You know I reaaally loovev yous guyz,” She slurred as she clumsily tried to get up and hug her closest shipmate.  The bus cose that moment to hit a large bump in the road. Mia fell forward, missing her intended target and ended up in the small floor space closer to the driver. She decided this was as good a place as any to stay, mostly since she currently lack the coordination needed to get up. Instead she lowered her head into her hands, slipping a few times before succeeding in keeping them in place and resting her elbows on the hard floor. She smiled up at the two males, both of whom she had met, one of them briefly. Mia’s head tilted slightly towards Hirek and Rhys, “Hey yous two! Did we have a good dinner yet?”

[ Lt. Cmdr Jaru “Janus” Rel | D’Takka | Qo’noS ] Attn: @Ellen Fitz @RyeTanker @Dumedion @Eirual @Juzzie @ob2lander961

“Honorless petaQ! Stay still!” If it weren’t for the general level of ruckus in the bar, the Klingon’s roar would have been impossible to miss. Between that and his stomping around, he was rattling the windows in the corner of the room that had become their battleground. Or his battleground anyway. For Janus’ part, he was just ducking out of the way.

“You know, I would,” he replied amicably, even as he was neatly sidestepping another wildly aimed punch, “but I promised a pretty nurse that I wouldn’t engage in any strenuous activity.” Vojona probably wouldn’t have defined resting as bar hopping on Qo’noS, but at least Janus was stopping short of the close quarters boxing match this Klingon apparently wanted. It hadn’t been a hard decision to make. The mammoth Klingon smelled like a garbage pile. He’d been drinking heavily, and it seemed that he’d started his night early. There was enough alcohol in his breath to cause second hand drunkenness. Even slightly buzzed, the uncoordinated assaults weren’t hard to dodge. Besides, Janus’ goal wasn’t to win a fight, it was to annoy the hell out of the guy. In that he was wildly succeeding.

“Coward! Cardassian coward!” Also, his sole conversation skill was shouting one-to-two-word insults at ear splitting volumes, which was what had irked Janus into talking to him in the first place – hence his current predicament. The diction was impressive for someone so obviously shitfaced, but it wasn’t like he was quoting Shakespeare. Or any sort of compound sentence.

“I agree. But twenty precent less Cardassian than I was yesterday, so I think that’s a win.” He felt the bump of a table at his hip, then swore under his breath. Seeing the Klingon barging towards him, Janus dropped, rolling under the table – there was definitely going to be something nasty on his clothes – and popping back to his feet on the other side. At least now there was a solid wooden table between them. That was a win. “That’s something everyone here can drink to! Fuck Cardassians!” There was a partially filled tankard on the table, gone moments later as Janus snatched it up and drained it dry. Whatever it was, it burned all the way down, turning his whoop into a strangled cough.

The Klingon roared, knocking the table out of the way to get at him. “Strength like that, there’s got to be better job opportunities out there than professional drunkard.” Janus complained, ducking off to the side yet again.

“STAY STILL!”

“Gonna have to pass on that buddy.” He was getting tired of this. Since it was the only thing he had in hand, Janus hurled the empty mug at him. He must have been tipsier than he thought, since instead of nailing the guy on the forehead (harmless for a Klingon, but annoying and distracting), the edge struck right on the eye, which was definitely going to leave a mark. “Oh, ow. Shit. Sorry.” However, he didn’t stick around to see what he’d wrought, turning and slipping through the crowd towards the exit. Best case scenario, he’d have a nasty bruise to tell stories about for a few weeks. Worst case… an eye patch to tell stories about forever. Klingons loved their war stories.

“Not a good story, sticking to the bare facts,” he mused, the muggy air of the coastal city something of a relief as the pilot meandered down the street in the quiet night. “Hopefully he’s smart enough sober to make up a better one.” With a slight grin, he palmed the credit chip he’d slipped from the Klingon’s belt during one of their closer encounters, bringing it close to his face to see if there were any security codes on it he needed to worry about. “I’ll even corroborate whatever story he settles on, as thanks for financing the rest of my night." What, he’d been in stasis this morning, it wasn’t like he had any money. Janus had been relying on the tour organizers for that, and he still hadn’t managed to find them.

Turning a corner, musing on where to head next, Janus had to jump back quickly before he was run over by a metal monstrosity. The size of it – along with the music that was vibrating through the exterior – was more than enough to get his attention. He got a better look at it as it stopped for opposing traffic at an intersection. Presumably, it had started life as a simple transport skiff, but years of questionable aftermarket add-ons had created an entirely different beast. Way too many power cells, probably for whatever party was going on inside, and some kind of fusion core in the back that was running way too hot. Aerodynamically, it was not something made to go fast. But with a little bit of coaxing, he was sure it would anyway.

“Hey!” he yelled, walking up to the side and banging on the door. “Question for you!”

The door opened almost immediately, and the atmosphere spilling out was even more overwhelming than the other bars he’d found so far tonight. Lights, music, sweat, more alcohol, and a ostentatiously dressed Ferengi. “Welcome to the Targ Pit. Purveyor of lust, home to all matter of pervers-“

Janus, freshly awakened from a perverted nightmare that he didn’t remember, but had heard enough about to consider a long stretch of abstinence, cut off the introduction. “I will give you everything on this credit chip right now, if you let me drive. Deal?” He handed over the stolen chip for the Ferengi to scan, and swore he saw the host’s pupils turn into money symbols at whatever number appeared on the screen.

“Deal!” The word came out far too quickly, which the Ferengi seemed to notice, quickly schooling his face back into the sleezy mask of greed that meant professionalism in that culture. “I mean, yes. Yes, we can come to an arrangement. My name is Monty, and I am available for whatever you require, for a small fee, of course.”

“Uh huh.” Already given permission for what he wanted, Janus didn’t listen to the rest, though Monty kept jabbering behind him as he followed Janus through the cab to the front of the skiff. He did notice a fair amount of humans for Qo’noS, noting with a fair amount of irony that he might have finally found the Theurgy tour group. One of them looked vaguely familiar, and if Shadow had done any research before coming on board the Theurgy, she might have recognized the squadron’s original commanding officer, though she’d been badly injured before they’d had a chance to meet. The rest of them would recognize the Wolves’ flight jacket, through not the man wearing it. For Janus’ part, he decided introductions could wait, in case the Ferengi decided to start double dealing and trying to get money that Janus didn’t have.

The controls were in Klingon, which he didn’t read. But there was a logic to most navigation and drive control systems that was consistent across planets, and he wasn’t afraid to take chances. This was a stupid idea, he conceded silently as the autopilot turned off and the skiff jerked back into movement. But Starfleet wasn’t going to let him fly a Valkyrie right now, so this beast would have to do.

“All aboard the party bus!”

[Lt (JG) XamotZark zh’Ptrell (Lt. Zark) | Djuunya’s Skiff, aka The Mobile Mosh Pit | First City | Qo'nos] Attn: @Ellen Fitz @rae @Dumedion @Eirual @Juzzie @ob2lander961

After dragging the severly intoxicated lightweight scientist into the bus, the happily bustling Andorian had placed her on a chair, then merrily grabbed on to the blonde and shook her back and forth while trying to squeeze the life out of her.  It was hard to tell whether Mia really knew what was going on being so insensate while trying to keep the contents of her stomach inside.  Still, Zark did what she affectionaltley did best and squeezed away while squealing happily from time to time.  Further attempts to get the blonde to drink more didn't work out to well since her mouth was uncoordinated and the liquid had a nasty tendency to sort of dribble on to her exposed chest. 

"Ạwwwww. Mia, you're supposed to drink this, not blubber it out."  The hammered Andorian took a moment to watch the liquid spread and make a rorschach on the blouse she'd lent the giggled.  "Hey! Hey Mia! We can play dress up later! My clothes fit you." Zark gave a look at the spreading wet pattern across the blouse then down at her own chest.  "At least I think it should. Heeey. Are you listening?" This didn't elicit much of a response and the Andorian humphed before giggling and planting a kiss on the pale cheek, then moving off to other parts of the skiff.

As she settled against the bar, a drink materialised in front of her as if by magic and still being somewhat loopy, she grabbed the shot and raised it in salute to the bar tender before downing it where it burned fiercely. Zark bent over and took a moment to cough as she fought the choking sensation. She didn't even know what the rotgut tasted like as the high proof spirit floated into her brain. Feeling much lightwr on her feet suddenly, she smiled as her eyes settled on an scantily clad undulating green form that was sliding up and down a metal pole. Mental scales that were supposed to keep one from doing silly things were a bit wobbly from the cumulative drinks tipped in favour of 'this is gonna be fun' and Zark held up her fingers for two more shots. Since it was the bar tenders job to keep the part goers hammered, he passed the shots over to which Zark picked them up and began swing her hips, body, and arms towards the dancing Orion. It also helped that her bra was more suited to simply containing her while it swayed from side to side.

Smiling at the prospect of getting a tip from customer, she gave the very attractive blue dancing form a smile steeped in sin. Raising her arms above her head, her own body twisted in time with the music.
At least this one shouldn't stink like the ridge heads or the breath of big ears the dancer thought. The stench of high proof alcohol was lost in a sea of fumes from all the open bottles, but it soon got much stronger as Zark got closer and the dancer nearly went cross eyed when the fumes hit. This served to pause her dancing just as Zark made contact. Oh shit! What the hell did she drink? Wait a minute, she's got two more! Like the Andorian had been with Enyd, Zark tossed her head back and pounded back the first shot. This seemed to reassure the Orion for just a moment that she wasn't going to forced to drink the equivalent of Klingon vodka, or rubbing alcohol. That was until the flammable words "You're pretty, let's dance." nearly seared her nostrils and burning liquid lip lock was applied.

The Orion didn't drink on the job and worse still, in the hurry to pick up this batch, she didn't get to eat, so the alcohol hit her like a sledgehammer. Dancing got easier after that. So did the rubbing and groping. Both women agreed the other did have a very nice asses. Though the covered blue tits were better. The bras though were getting in the way and we're better off, but she was working and it wasn't the right venue anyway. It could be, but we're not thaaaaat drunk. Yet. it didn't matter since they were in a party and everyone should be having fun.

Spotting a pair victims, the inebriated dancers grabbed a couple more drink and plopped themselves in a Human and Romulan's lap. This Andorian being her usual helpful self made sure she was comfortable by rubbing her perfectly shaped posterior into Rhys Williams lap in a manner most delectable. Probably despite his best efforts, Zark could feel a bulge from Rhys forming and she laughed. "Haaahh! " The Andorian gleefully cheered with a wide smile. "Rhys, we're here to have fun, drink and cheer up! " and with that, Andorian drink pourer extrordinaire yanked on her human's jaw and poured the incendiary 'drink' down his gullet. "Come on Rhys! Loosen up and let's have some fun!"

[ Hirek tr’Aimne |Djuunya’s Skiff, aka Party Bus to Hell, D’Takka | Qo’Nos ] Attn: @Dumedion  @RyeTanker  @rae  @Eirual  @Juzzie  @ob2lander961

Hirek waited until the blue hellion with generous boobs found another victim before he pushed off the couch long enough to wrap his arms under Mia’s shoulders and haul her up against his body. She felt cold to the touch, likely due to the extreme drenching they’d all received in the bar not so long ago, and given the amount of liquor in her system, food would be necessary if they wanted to prevent ill effects from marring the rest of her evening.

“We did not,” Hirek shot Rhys a warm smile before he gently deposited Mia on the couch beside the Welshman, “but YOU are about to have a snack!”

Hirek left the two just long enough to grab the closest thing to crackers and fruit he could find in a vehicle designed for hedonistic pursuits. The bartender looked disappointed with Hirek’s tray and refusal of more drinks besides the fruit juice mix they normally used to make the cocktails. Weaving around the blue blur and her Orion dance partner, Hirek placed the tray on the small table in front of the couch with a self-satisfied smile.

“Here you go,” he pushed two crackers into one hand while he pressed the glass of fruit juice against her lips, “some juice and crackers are just the thing.”

He was prevented further support in sobering the human up by the untimely, or timely, arrival of said blue blur and gyrating Orion partner. While Zark attacked Rhys with her ass, even going so far as to pull another stunt like what she’d done with Madsen – using her mouth as a vehicle liquid mayhem – the Orion was no less handsy but far less drunk with Hirek. Not one to refuse the attention of a beautiful woman, especially if he didn’t have to pay for it, Hirek leaned back against the couch cushions and sighed as the Orion pushed her rear up against his crotch before bending over in front of him as she ran her hands down the length of his legs.

Rolling his head to the side, Hirek caught Mia’s gaze with his own and smiled, “Do you want a turn?” While Hirek meant for the Orion to give Mia a lap dance, he was aware that it could be interpreted in a completely different direction, and the menace inside him was curious about which her inebriated brain would choose to decode.

[Lt. Rhys Williams|D’Takka and the Skiff ride to hell| Qo’Nos] attn: @Ellen Fitz @RyeTanker @Dumedion @Eirual @rae @ob2lander961

So began Rhys ride through the eight circles of hell. There was not alternative to sticking together that he could see. The more they stuck together the less chance there was of being, robbed, killed or worse getting in trouble. It was not a side of himself that he much liked that getting in trouble was a concern on par for him with death. In fact, if her were honest there was a degree of envy for his crew mates that eh couldn’t be as wild as everyone else.

Hirek was defiantly in his element. He was enjoying himself on different level than most others. Yes, the debauchery was clearly fun for him, but as Rhys saw him take some exampled of drink or narcotics to examine, he could see a clear analytical enjoyment to.

Poor Mia, Rhys certainly felt sorry for her. She was enjoying herself now, but she was going to have one hell of a headache in the morning that was for sure. Especially as she did not seem to have eaten much. Rhys was pleased to see that Hirek in his own little way was looking out for her in regards to food. There was defiantly more to him than met the eye. Rhys allowed himself a little smile at that.

The smile did not last long as soon Zark who certainly was enjoying herself on a level beyond everyone else, bounded over with an Orion dancing girl. She perched on his lap and her new friend settled on Hirek’s. Zark knew exactly how to move to get the reaction out of Rhys she wanted. Red faced and hard as a rock is how she seemed to like him and its what he was. He tried to resist but it was not going to be his night for keeping dignity.  She then tried to essentially force feed him a drink.

He coughed and tried to force her to stop.  It was not easy. She was strong and very determined. Whether it was the drink affecting him, or his irritation he wasn’t really sure but he found himself holding her wrist tightly. “Zark stop.” He didn’t shout but he kept his voice as authorative as he could. He also tried to keep his irritation down. “Its not good to try and make someone drink who doesn’t want to.” Rhys didn’t like calling the shots, but in this instance, he felt he had to. “Behave, or you will be in trouble.” He wasn’t really sure if his words were meant to be suggestive or not, but he heard them and inwardly blanched. The last thing Zark needed was encouragement. Suddenly feeling awkward he took the drink from her hand. “I’m having fun I promise.” He took a sip of the drink and by remarkable fortitude kept his face straight as it burned. His eyes did start to water a little though.

[Ens Mia Dunne | Djuunya’s Skiff, aka Party Bus to Oblivion, D’Takka | Qo’Nos]

Attn: @Ellen Fitz @RyeTanker @Dumedion @rae @ob2lander961 @Juzzie

Mia was only barely cognizant that Zark was trying to give her something to drink, but she just could not get her mouth to function. Then all she could hear was a squealing happy Zark and getting squeezed way to tightly. Thankfully both of those stopped and Mia pretty much just slumped where she was once more. She again had that oddly weightless feeling as someone lifted her and almost felt like someone was dancing with her. “Is nize,” she mumbled almost incoherently, “I hasn’t damced for lon time.” She was able to focus on Hirek’s face for less than a second before she felt herself being lowered to a seat. She made a pouty face that the dance was already over.

The next thing she knew she was holding some crackers and Hirek was holding a drink to her mouth, but not much got into her before someone came and sat on his lap and started gyrating. She looked away only to find Zark doing the same thing to the Counselor next to her. She watched in fascination, wondering how anyone could move their body that way. Then turned her gaze back the other way and watched the Green Skinned woman all but disrobing Hirek before her eyes. Her eyes travelled to Hirek’s face, and she could tell he was definitely enjoying whatever the Orion was doing to him.

Rolling his head to the side, Hirek caught Mia’s gaze with his own and smiled, “Do you want a turn?”

Mia looked back at the gyrating female and the thought of doing that to Hirek decidedly piqued her curiosity. Looking back at Hirek she replied in a slightly slurred and stunned voice, “I don thin I haz movz like dat!”

[ G’ethrO Trinar | D’Takka | Qo’Nos ] Attn: @Dumedion   @RyeTanker   @rae   @Eirual  @Juzzie  @ob2lander961

“You’re sure those mak'dar baktag are on that skiff?” G’ethrO Trinar, third son of an obscure house loyal to the disposed Mo’Kai, lowered his scope and glared at the Ferengi merchant who’d brought him the information for a price.

The Ferengi gave an indignant sniff, “Would I lie to a paying customer?”

“HoS lI' Dalo'Ha'chu'!” G’ethrO’s colleague and distant cousin, Bit’ecH hissed at the merchant, spitting onto the ground at his feet for emphasis.

Before the Ferengi could backstab them out of a sense of hurt pride by telling the Federation imbeciles on the skiff of their plan, G’ethrO tossed the man the latinum he desired and made a shooing motion. He waited until the merchant disappeared before motioning for his men to come closer.

“We’ll place the barrier here,” using a holographic map, he pointed to a narrowing gap in the road the skiff presently traveled down, or more, careened down. “And funnel them into this pinch point,” he indicated another area on a side street where the skiff would have to stop and turn around to return to an area where traveling was easier, “you four, position yourselves on these roofs here and here, on either side of the alley.” The four in question nodded while the others waited expectantly. “You two stay near the entrance to this funnel in case they try to break out again, and you three track them along the road and help ‘guide’ them in their decision-making.”

The group dispersed, leaving G’ethrO and Bit’ecH alone for the time being.

“What about me, cousin?” She whined, eager to sink her teeth into the juicy flesh of Federation interlopers who’d brought their house such dishonor. “Where do I go?”

“Stick with me. I’ll make sure you get your pound of flesh today.” She gave a grunting, muted howl of delight as she fell into step beside him.

Today, the streets of D’Takka would flow with the blood of the Mo’Kai enemies!

---

*pathetic piece of baktag
*You are a total waste of energy

---

OOC note: we can end it on the ominous undertones if you like, or we can kick butt, I just hate things sitting in limbo. Cheers!

[Ens. Talia "Shadow" Al-Ibrahim | Djuunya’s Skiff, aka Party Bus to Hell, D’Takka | Qo’Nos] Attn: @ob2lander961 @rae @Ellen Fitz @RyeTanker @Juzzie
[Show/Hide]She’d lost track of time, and shots. How long had they been in the air? Thirty minutes? Forty? Was this her sixth shot, or eighth? Why was there so much turbulence? So many questions – not enough sobriety to answer them.

Talia’s eyes wavered drunkenly from Via, unable to keep up with her passionate re-telling of ‘dealing with punk-ass-bitch-ass upstarts’ from the fellow Wolf’s adolescence – to wander the scene around them both. Pretty-Eyes, Skittish, Hot-lips and Kali all seemed to be enjoying themselves. Her dark eyes narrowed at the Romulan as his turned to meet hers. Talia’s lips curled at him; a look that could be interpreted many ways – some more enjoyable than others.

Mmhm, I’m drunk.

Shadow licked her lips, then returned her sluggish attention back to Via before downing another shot of slightly pinkish, glowing alcohol the Valravn pilot had ordered – the name long forgotten. Talia cleared her throat drunkenly, then knocked the drink down with a wince. Via was still going on, and she couldn’t even remember what the hell they were supposed to be talking about at that point. Should probably drink some water...oh yeah, the pistol, Talia’s eyes widened. “Wait – wait...listen! Alls I’m saying,” she interrupted in a slurred hurry, “is you should’ve test fired it. How’d you know you didn’t get robbed with a...r-replica or...whatever?”

It seemed like a valid question.

The empty shot glass was upturned down onto the bar with finality.

“Bet good money that thing’s a fake,” Talia pointed to the disruptor tucked in the back of Via’s pants. “An between you and me, I’m surprised you could fit it in there with that dump truck of an ass your packin,” Talia giggled.

Just as she went to stand, the entire bus rolled.

Pandemonium ensued.

Over the shouts of alarmed passengers, Talia heard the engines straining while the inertial dampeners whined in protest – as everything and everyone pitched and slid under the g-forces. Talia grabbed ahold of the bar to brace, but too little, too late; she slid and stumbled into the two Orion girls who were mid-dance around a polished vertical pole. The three collided in a mess of multi-colored limbs and careened into one of the giant Klingon bouncers.

Sparks flew. Bottles shattered. People shouted, cheered. It was chaos.

Someone or something triggered even more strobe lights as the music got even louder; the entire compartment started filling with foam bubbles.

Talia pulled her face out from between the largest pair of green breasts she’d ever seen.

“Wha th’fuck,” the pilot laughed drunkenly as the bus righted itself. “Who th’hell’s driving this thing,” she demanded, then pulled herself up and checked to make sure the others were okay as she stumbled up to the cockpit – waving bubbles away the whole time. “Don' worry guys - Imma go have a chat with th’pilot,” Talia grinned at them. “It’ll be fine. I can fly.”

---

OOC - I choose more chaos. Roll for saving throws, please :)

[Ens Mia Dunne | Djuunya’s Skiff, aka Party Bus to Oblivion, D’Takka | Qo’Nos]

Attn: @Ellen Fitz @RyeTanker @Dumedion @rae @ob2lander961 @Juzzie

Her eyes were still focused on Hirek when she suddenly felt like she was flying. Her body seemed to hit off a few hard surfaces and she felt the dull pain but was mostly numb. She also seemed to have tumbled into a large tangled pile with several other people, one seemed to be the Romulan she’d been next to only moments ago. Mia didn’t even bother trying to move as her head and stomach were now revolting in the sudden movement.

She closed her eyes trying to ease the dizziness, after seeing everything flying around she didn’t want to see what else was coming at her, but she had the feeling that the pressure that seemed to grow with thumps and muttered oaths might not be totally be a good omen.

The sound of engines whining somewhere was confusing. Why would that be happening? Was the ship crashing? She started to try to push herself up but instead met soft resistance to her hands and she didn’t move. Something else sort of soft, but less so than in front of her, was against her back. Her legs seemed to be tangled in a pretzel, making her think of Zark’s comment when they had first met. She couldn’t help the giggle that escaped her lips at the thought that Zark had actually pretzelled her. She giggled louder, then hiccupped and slurred, “Zark di prezel me!” She let her head drop to the side, and only briefly wondered why she could hear someone’s heart beating, or was that her own?

---

OOC: Chaos is good!

[Lt. Rhys Williams|D’Takka and the Skiff ride to hell| Qo’Nos] attn: @Ellen Fitz @RyeTanker @Eirual @Dumedion @rae @ob2lander961

Drinks and other more dubious substances were being passed around. There were also a significant number of activities going on around that Rhys was choosing to ignore. The young Welshman was finding everything a bit too much, but he was also reluctant to say anything for fear of appearing like a kill joy. The other factor was that he doubted he would be listened to. A counsellor was barely and officer in some people’s minds.

So Rhys sat as if trapped in his own personal purgatory, and if that wasn’t all things actually got worse. There was a huge thud and everyone on board the skiff was catapulted into bulkheads, furniture and each other. Rhys found himself flying like a dart into an upturned and rather grubby looking sofa. A few trays, plates and bits of glass showered him.

Taking a moment to struggle to his feet and look at the carnage around him. It seemed in many ways he had been quite lucky. His shoulder hurt but that was likely just a badly bruised and there were a couple of superficial cuts and grazes around his hands and face. Others had fared much worse.

However, his natural instinct to check to see if everyone was ok was interrupted by a new worry. Talia, who seemed physically fine but absurdly drunk seemed intent on moving towards the cockpit of the skiff. “No no, you are not fine to….” His voice was cut, as he slipped landing on his already painful shoulder. He looked up, and a machine that clearly produced bubbles as an effect for dancing was badly broken and leaking bubbles and fluids all over the floor. Rhys growled to himself. “I am not having a good day!” Before he stagged up and attempted to restrain Talia.

[Lt (JG) XamotZark zh’Ptrell (Lt. Zark) | Djuunya’s Skiff, aka The Mobile Mosh Pit | First City | Qo'nos] Attn: @Ellen Fitz @rae @Dumedion @Eirual @Juzzie @ob2lander961

Zark's attempt to get Rhys to loosen up were definitely sliding into more aggressive territory as the counsellor tried to maintain some sort of command composure.  Being drunk, uninhibited, and almost topless at this point, the buxom Andorian giggled at the human's serious demeanour. "Awww. Rhys, you're being cute."  Her smile turned absolutley predatory. "You can't trick me." Deceptively strong arms wrapped themselves around the human's head and pulled him in, plunging his face into her cleavage. "I still like you, cause you're soooooooo cuuuute!" she squealed as she unconsciously tried to commit manslaughter by flesh valley.

Rhys' demise was not to be though as the bus suddenly flipped and Zark slipped off and went flying.  Not being in a state to recover and more concerned with rubbing herself all over the human in her arms, she careened off Hirek and the Orion in his lap seperating the two and flailed as best as one could while inertia and gravity were being the boss of mass. Her feeling on the matter were summed by a loud "waaaaaaeeeeee!" She rolled onto something squishy and her legs got stuck just as the crash was coming to an end. The Zhen had no idea what was going on, but she wasn't moving and she was tangled with something or someone. It didn't seem so bad since she hadn't gone flying too much further.  Then her anchor spoke and all thoughts of aches and pains were forgotten as blue hands confirmed it was something nice she was attached to and with another loud squeal, she reached around Mia and grabbed on to her while rubbing her head against the blonde locks despite giving the impression that she was trying to slam Mia's head into the floor. "Miiiiiaaaaa!! I missssed you!!! " It was all sweet and fun.  At least until the disruptor bolts started flying.

[Rewind a bit | G’ethrO Trinar | Ambush Site]

G’ethrO Trinar didn't know what happened.  The bus was merrily making its way into the fire zone.  It was no more than a minute away when it looked like wild targ ran out into the street and the bus clipped the animal and rolled over it.  The targ was not a small specimen, so the bus had gone onto it's side, and over, then one final flip and landed upright before coming to a screeching halt.   He had to think on this one as his small party had been planning on blasting the bus at point blank range with their disruptor pistols, but they were just out of effective range.  The lowly house scion pulled at his mustache for a moment as he thought furiously about what to do. Canines revealed themselves as an idea struck him. He tapped his communicator. "Warriors, head down and we will approach on the street level.  We will make the mak'dar baktag taste our knives and scream their despair on the way to gre'thor."

A crowd had gathered around the trashed bus and Trinar smiled as he withdrew his d'k tahg.  Anticipation sang in his veins as he felt the predatory rush for blood enter his system.  Tonight he would strike back at the enemy and get some down payment on all the blood he was owed for becoming an outcast.  They were tantalizingly close when he heard a shout. "Honourless petaq!  Surrender and I promise you a swift death!"  G’ethrO Trinar froze and he didn't know who had shouted it as he scanned the crowd.  People began to part as several warriors wearing the insignia of internal security approached as a group.  Even the other warriors from the uninvolved stepped aside since they had no clue whose side they were supposed to take.  The scion snarled his hate at the personification of the coward Chancellor the lowered his voice. "Glory awaits us brothers! Charge them and I'll quickly finish the alien baktag."

There was a nod and a roar, and other supporters did as they were ordered and ran at the opposing warriors with knives drawn and disruptors firing.  The crowd scattered as the air became alive with deadly green energy.  Those of the less courageous bent screamed as they exercised discretion to madly to get away from the battle that suddenly erupted.  Trinar smiled as he followed several of his cohorts and angled towards the bus.  This would be over quickly and he could claim real honour in killing the honourless petaq.  He reached a door and yanked it open as he roared to announce the death of the occupants.  Which quickly transformed into a pained grunt as a pair of combat boots slammed him in the face and he flew onto his back.  He had the brief vision of a slim blue and very extravagantly feminine figure somersault in midair and he oofed again as the mass of blue flesh landed on his chest and drove the air out of his body.  His arms started towards the impudent pipsqueak to throw her off when his vision spangled as a bottle shattered between his eyes.  He roared in pain this time as the blue bug rolled off him and he struggled to his feet and ran his hands across his face to clear the blood and debris from his eyes.  When he could partially see, it was a sight he definitely was not expecting.

[Lt (JG) XamotZark zh’Ptrell (Lt. Zark)]

It was a sign of just how drunk the Andorian was that she felt encumbered in the current fight and stripped off her top without a second thought, then put her hands up to go hand to hand.  "Come fight me you scum sucking targ!" she yelled, oblivious the sway of her chest.  She wobbled a bit, and didn't understand why the Klingon just stood there and stared at her.  It was no matter though as she charged him and delivered a professional grade soccer kick between his legs.  The Klingon wailed as his family jewels were squashed and his hands went to cover his abused manhood.  It didn't help as the combat gymnast legs split and brought herself down to waist level then drove an uppercut into the parts his hands weren't covering, eliciting another animal sound of pain.  A deft drop onto her back and both feet scrunched up against her body before pistoning out again, smashing the incapacitated on his feet Klingon and sent him crashing back to the ground for blessed relief from the pain between his legs.

Satisfied with her work, Zark headed back towards the bus with a stupid grin on her face.  Then the nausea from all her movement hit and she collided with the bus and bent over with a nasty retching sound to empty the contents of her stomach onto the ground.  This was where one of the Mo'kai warriors found her and he snarled his hate as he prepared to shoot the defenceless Andorian.  The potential killer yelled as he was hit in the shoulder by a green blast and Zark looked behind her to see a wobbly Talia holding a pistol she'd managed to scrounge from somewhere.  Zark yelled happily as she jumped to and tackled Talia back into the bus.  "Oh!! Thank you Talia.  Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!  I promise a whole bunch of screaming orgasms for this!" The Zhen effused as she planted wet puke laced kisses over the the pilot.

[Ens Mia Dunne | Djuunya’s Skiff, aka the Beached Whale?, D’Takka | Qo’Nos]

Mia felt the world spinning in her head. All she wanted was to get off this ride. Suddenly, two very strong hands grabbed her and were accompanied by a painful squeal in her ear. Mia’s eyes popped open as the blue hands of Zark wrapped around her head and shook it.  Mia heard shout’s from outside the bus and thought maybe they had reached wherever it was they were going. The sudden shift of Zark’s weight as she apparently took to fighting someone, something that Mia was beginning to realize seemed to be Zark’s favorite pastime, left Mia both stunned and relived.

After a few moments, Mia rolled herself over and started to crawl, although she wasn’t sure where she was crawling to.  She just knew she had to get off the bus, even if she was crawling over other bodies. Or she trying to crawl, because, even to Mia, it felt like her legs and arms did not want to work very well. And her left elbow wasn’t supporting her the way she expected, and she ended up face down on someone’s body. Mia decided it was far enough and mumbled, “gud nuff… rest..t  here.”

[ Hirek tr’Aimne | D’Takka | Qo’Nos ] Attn: @Dumedion   @RyeTanker   @rae   @Eirual  @Juzzie   @ob2lander961

There’d been no warning, but then again, there rarely was warning for such events.

Hirek’s arms had instinctively pulled Mia towards his body once the bus began to tilt and todder, only for the woman’s body to be dislodged from his grip when, mid-air, the combat boots of the Andorian she-devil clocked him in the head and sent his temporarily weightless body careening elsewhere. Hirek’s body protested via a soundless gasp at its sudden stop atop the bar, his arms draped over one side and his legs the other.

All around him, the bus occupants began to recover, some with more drunken bravado than others. Hirek pushed off the bar and rubbed his hands over his chest and stomach, feeling the newly bruised area for severe damage. There was none, just a tender toros. He likewise looked around the murky bus to assess if anyone was in serious distress. The overhead lights flickered, and the music continued to show resilience against their newly grounded status, piping out tinny spurts of melody. There appeared only dazed and bruised occupants, but thankfully and miraculously, no one was impaled by the dancing poles.

Talia declared her ability to drive just as Zark revived Mia with aggressive affection. Hirek began to chuckle only to wince into a crouched duck when the familiar sounds of weapons fire came from outside. From his position, Hirek was the closest to a medium-sized window by the bar. It’d been blacked out and disguised to look like the rest of the tacky interior, but, thanks to the accident, the window had crunched open. Quickly moving to stand to the side of it, Hirek studied the street outside, the creases between his eyebrows deepening with a frown when he spied the Klingon versus Klingon fight just outside. From the sounds of it, or what he’d been able to overhear, one of the groups had intended for this crash in the hopes of killing them.

Hirek ducked down when a Klingon aggressor came close to the window. So far, it seemed they hadn’t noticed it and were instead more focused on one another. Hefting one of the larger, thicker liquor bottles into his hands, Hirek stood back up and leaned against the wall, waiting. Sure enough, another Klingon came by, and without hesitation, Hirek reached through the window and smashed the bottle against the man’s head. While not enough to send the man to the ground, it was enough to have him pivot, lurching his weapon up and forward to an unseen foe. Hirek dropped the liquor bottle to the bus floor and reached out the window again, grabbing the weapon with both hands and using his grip to haul the Klingon forward, smashing the man’s face against the side of the bus.

The pair continued the wrestling match until Hirek managed to dislodge the Klingon’s grip on the weapon enough to snatch it through the window onto his side of the bus. Twisting it around, he fired point-blank at the Klingon, who was now trying to crawl through to retrieve it. With a satisfied smirk, he watched the Klingon drop to the ground outside. Hirek didn’t particularly care if the man was dead or alive. Now suitably weaponized, Hirek aimed at the window. There appeared some uniformity among the groups, and after observing which group Zark had attacked, Hirek proceeded to aim at that group. It was not the same group he’d stolen this weapon from, but they could deal with that mishap if they survived.

Hirek continued firing, occasionally pulling back into the bus to avoid returning fire, until, from in the distance, he heard: [ This is KDF! Cease fire! We have the situation contained! ]

Pulling the weapon back inside the bus, Hirek turned to study the others. They had enough cover and resources to wait in case this wasn't the KDF and only a ploy by their unexpected enemies to come closer. With a half shrug, Hirek turned to study the Klingons outside the window, weapon still at the ready in case hostilities renewed.

[ Lt Cmdr. Jaru “Janus” Rel | Djuunya’s Piece of Shit Skiff | D’Takka | Qo’Nos] Attn: @Dumedion @Ellen Fitz @Juzzie @Eirual @RyeTanker @ob2lander961
[Show/Hide]Somewhere along the way, the Ferengi had reappeared, and with him came the alcohol. Janus was only half listening to the man grovel, but it was enough to figure out that the greedy little grifter was angling for a good tip. There must have been a lot of money on that credit chip. Monty probably assumed – incorrectly – that there was more where it came from. But as long as he kept bringing drinks up to the cockpit, Janus had no desire to correct the assumption.

Drunk and driving a small tank, excellent combination.

When the targ came barreling into the street, Janus – to his credit, even intoxicated as he was – saw it in plenty of time. He made his living in split second brilliant piloting decisions, after all. It was a massive, disgusting looking creature, big by even targ standards, all red rimmed eyes and foaming jaws as it chased something across the intersection. He barely saw the other, smaller creature, but Janus could have sworn it was a rabbit. It hardly mattered though, the targ was the pressing issue. He’d been looking for an excuse to get this piece of shit skiff into the air for real, instead of cowering just above the street. He routed a burst of power into the thrusters and angled for launch… only for the front antigravs to fail completely a meter up. The front of the bus, which he was inconveniently inside, dropped like a stone just as the skiff lurched forward, and he clipped the targ instead of clearing over it, pitching them into a roll.

He might have salvaged the situation, but the force threw him right out of the chair, banging into the controls, the wall, the roof, and eventually coming to a tangled heap on the floor. He was really getting too old for this, he thought with a groan, taking stock of any new injuries. Everything hurt, except, oddly, his new fake leg. So much for taking it easy. He’d have to avoid any sickbay follow-ups until the bruises were dealt with.

“… be fine. I can fly.”

Everything was still spinning as he stood up, but everything was staying in place, so it had to be the alcohol.

“You’d better start flapping your arms and running real fast then.” It took him way too long to focus on the newcomer, his long overdue new wolf. “This thing hovers, but I can confirm that it does not fly.” The dull thud of an explosion echoed through the wall he was leaning on, and Janus stumbled away. “Might… not hover anymore either, now that I’m—uh, that was a disruptor?” Yeah, he confirmed as the noise of pandemonium got closer, shots were definitely being fired. Then he pushed past Shadow to go out and join the party.

On the way out, Janus paused by the bar, grabbing a bottle off the top for a quick swig, then thinking the better of it and hopping over the counter entirely. It wasn’t the most graceful of jumps, banging the shin of his new leg was more embarrassing than painful. “Come on,” he complained as he rummaged through the shelves, ignoring the bartenders complaining. “This is a Klingon establishment, there’s got to be a—ha!” He pulled the hidden disruptor out triumphantly. “I really do love this culture. Predictable in the best ways.” There were a few more in the same hole, which he dumped on the bar for anyone who needed it, before continuing on his merry way; bottle in one hand, disruptor in another.

He didn’t make it the door. A window blew out, disintegrated by the bolt that narrowly missed taking Janus’ head off. Janus fired a few warning shots back out the window, all the while diving for cover off to the side. His spot picked for him, he made his stand there, ducking in and out to harry the attackers outside, continuing to drink whenever he was out of sight.

“I gotta hand it to you guys, you really do know how to plan a pub crawl,” he remarked idly at one point, though no one was really listening.

That was right before the KDF showed up to ruin it.

“Cease fire? Where’s the honor in that?”

[Ens. Talia "Shadow" Al-Ibrahim | Last Blast of the Night | D'Takka | Qo'noS] Attn: @Ellen Fitz @RyeTanker @rae @Eirual @Juzzie @ob2lander961
[Show/Hide]There was so much going on, Talia couldn’t even process half of what had happened. Given her inebriated state, everything had blurred together into a wobbled, half-lucid mess of nearly indescribable chaos; and that was just from the crash – but true to form, the night just kept getting more out of hand. One second she was on her feet, blinking in confused scrutiny at the drunken Cardassian, wondering where the hell he came from but also trying to remember why he looked so familiar, the next second, they were getting shot at and everyone started yelling; well, mostly just Zark.

It clicked as he stumbled past her towards the bar, leaving Shadow even more dazed. He can’t be Janus. He’s supposed to be dead – right? “Hey, you’re s’posed to be de-,” Talia had slurred after the uncanny lookalike of the deceased SCO, only to be interrupted by both him and Rhys. The former attempted to make a joke out of the fact that he’d trashed the skiff into utter ruination – not that it was much to begin with – while the former tried to restrain her only to trip over himself. She spared Hotlips a glance and a chuckle, about to ask if he was alright, when Zark decided to sally forth in a topless charge into danger. Welp, there she goes, Shadow snorted, then looked back over her shoulder for the others. “Fuck sakes, they’re never gonna let us back on this planet – where’s Mia? Dixie?”

The damn skiff was half-filled with foam, sparks flew from everywhere, while the rest of the passengers made their quick exits out into the melee or tried to escape. Well, the ones with sense did anyway. Talia wafted the bubble-foam away as the mayhem continued. She discovered Mia, passed out atop Dixiebee, both unconscious but seemed unhurt. The blonde was using the volatile pilot’s butt cheek as a pillow – which was hilarious enough to warrant it’s own holoimage, (if only Talia had the time or means to take one). Pretty-eyes had found himself a weapon, and Talia flashed the Romulan a drunken grin before her own eyes settled on the disruptor lodged under Via. “Hey imma jus’ borrow this real quick – you jus’ stay asleep – good Via,” Shadow grunted while she pulled the weapon free. “Thing better work,” she snorted, then crouched as a few shots pinged around through the broken veiwports from outside the skiff.

One of the Klingons had made it past Zark somehow, and barged into the skiff at Rhys. Talia lifted the disruptor and squeezed the trigger but nothing happened. “Fuckin figures,” she swore, then flung it at his face like a tomahawk – just as someone shot him through the chest – Talia wasn’t sure who. Unfortunately, her aim wasn’t anywhere near as good. The pistol bounced harmlessly off the Klingon’s shoulder as he fell, only to rebound into the back of the councilor’s head. Talia rushed to him as he keeled over with a grimace – while more angry shouts and disruptor fire came from outside. Talia cursed as she slurred an apology to Rhys, then grabbed the wounded Klingon’s pistol by the door to cover Zark (or try to). By the time she got there though, there were a lot more Klingons beaming in, as well as shuttles overhead, sweeping the scene with bright floodlights. They were fighting each other now that the Andorian had done what she did best. Talia started to laugh with relief at the sight of Kali, even though the buxom blue medico was retching her guts out, but blasted the Klingon trying to sneak up on the Andorian first. It was a lucky hit – the pilot had aimed at his head but winged him in the shoulder instead – but that hardly mattered. There wasn’t much time to relax though; a blur of blue and white tackled Talia before she could do much of anything. 

The topless Andorian threw herself on the pilot, literally, and both crashed back into the skiff with a grunt. Talia spent the next few seconds trying to get Zark to stop – head and neck craned away from the wet, vomit coated kisses – but it was all in vain. The first dry heave between grunted protests was all it took. As an absurdly bright, shiny pair of boots stepped into her view, Talia threw up all over them in a spray of red-tinted foulness, compliments of...well, whatever the hell she'd been drinking with Via.

A commanding, throaty voice barked above her. She didn’t understand the words, but he didn’t sound happy or impressed at all. Talia wasn’t in the right state of mind to care, anyway. It was easy to ignore after everything that had just happened. Her head wouldn’t stop spinning, and it was so hard to keep her eyes open. But something was munching, though, so loud that it didn’t make sense; not that much of what had happened so far that night had made much sense.

Incredibly, there was what appeared to be a rabbit, of all things – it sat in the mess of her hair, casually nibbling on a string of seaweed right by her face. Talia grimaced at it scornfully, then looked down as Zark rolled off her. The right sleeve of her top was missing, somehow – and the damn thing was tugging on the rest, trying to eat it.

“Hey - shtop eatin’ my clothes, bunny,” she growled, just before everything got really bright.

The last thing she saw as the glow faded was the floor and walls of the transporter pad, surrounded by the grunts and groans of everyone, with a warm presence sat upon her chest; Talia blinked at the bunny, then it scampered off in a blur of motion with a trail of seaweed and vanished into a maintenance hatch.

[Some time later…]

Talia woke to the sound of voices; hushed, but firm – spoken like knives across silk in a threatening growl. One was male; a throaty landslide of shale, the other female. A dark eye cracked open to reveal the recovery ward, which the pilot recognized with a muted groan. She blinked with a grimace, only to find the slender form of LT. Madsen – Moody – held close to a hulking, scarred brute of a Klingon. He was glowering down at her, his face set in a mask of absolute seriousness.

“...your ‘culture tour’ was beyond catastrophic. My men are still down there cleaning up the mess. If the Chancellor didn’t vouch for you and your crew you’d all be in chains – as it is, the situation has been left for me to deal with. I tell you this, personally, so you understand it fully: you and your people will not sully the soil of my world again. Is that clear?”

Lt. Madsen stood to her greatest height, which wasn't very significant, and bellied up to the Klingon without the slightest flinch before replying, "Perhaps you should investigate the tour agencies who have sought our patronage instead of lobbing such accusations of a mess at our feet. We followed the itinerary given to us by a Klingon tour agency and any mess that was created was created as a result of Klingon interference." She tipped her head back to do her best glare as she added, "We will sully your world, your markets, your taverns, perhaps even your beds, for as long as we are needed by YOUR government to support the alliance against a far greater threat than mere barroom brawls. Perhaps we should both remember the greater threat when dealing with one another."

Talia’s eyes widened as she propped herself up on her elbows, blinking at the display. Damn, Moody, the pilot grinned to herself.

The Klingon, a high ranking official by the look of the numerous insignia that adorned his form-fitting, armored attire, loosed a throaty growl in reply, then met her bark-for-bark. “There will come a day when my admiration for your passion ends along with that threat – do not seek to test me, woman. The wretch, Djuunya, and the Mo’Kai filth she allied with to orchestrate the entire sad affair have been dealt with. Your suggestion is an insult to my honor and duty to the Empire,” he sneered. “Remember that, with my warrior’s oath,” he released one shoulder to beat his fist against his bared chest.

Lt. Madsen barely missed a beat, "Your duty to the Empire exists only so long as your Empire exists and your Empire exists and has a higher chance of existing for longer than the morrow from our alliance. We are both in need of alliances and collaboration at the moment. We can schedule a time to be surly and cantankerous for after the greater threat is eliminated." Daring a bite, Madsen reached out and patted the Klingon's chest. "As my grandmother always said you don't have to like your partner but you certainly have to watch their back in a fight. We don't expect parades and sweets, Colonel, and for all our cultural differences, we do appreciate the efforts made to make do with our 'shenanigans' born of misunderstanding. But it is a two way street. While we will endeavor to better equip our people with cultural awareness, we cannot promise that trouble won't find them. They are all walking targets and in that, thank you for your strength and expediency in bringing things to an effective end. I do not criticize your work nor your men, in fact I respect you immensely. However, the constant threats are most tiresome. Unless you're seeking to irritate me into coupling with you, perhaps we should engage in a more measured manner?"

Lt Madsen lowered her hand and offered a polite smile that betrayed no other emotion than the official demeanor suiting her position.

Talia shook her head in amazement while the Klingon, whoever he was, offered no words in reply. He simply stared at Madsen mutely for a few seconds, then grunted a subdued bark of laughter. “You honor her, as it should be. Very well, Lieutenant,” he released her, head held high, yet his face twitched in an unknowable expression as he nodded curtly. “You...will be sent any pertinent intel we extract from the apprehended,” he growled hesitantly, like he wanted to say something else or something more but decided at the last minute not to. “Either way, this affair ended in a few less rebels for the Chancellor to deal with,” he muttered, almost to himself, then grunted again as he turned to leave.

Talia released the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding as the doors slid closed behind him.

“Damn that was badass,” the pilot laughed, then grimaced at the throbbing in her head while she looked around for the others; who were all in various stages of recovery. Her eyes widened suddenly as they snapped back to Madsen's. "Shit, wait – what happened to the rabbit?”

~FIN~

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OOC: Thanks to @Ellen Fitz for Madsen's parts in this finale, and being the Undisputed Champion of Chaos that she is; to all the other writers in this thread of insanity - it's been a lot of fun - your all amazing. Good times, indeed :)