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Topic: Day 15 [1727 hrs] An Rousing Experience of Klingon Culinary Confusion (Read 17134 times) previous topic - next topic
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Re: Day 15 [1727 hrs] An Rousing Experience of Klingon Culinary Confusion

Reply #100
[ 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.

Re: Day 15 [1727 hrs] An Rousing Experience of Klingon Culinary Confusion

Reply #101
[ Lt Cmdr. Jaru “Janus” Rel | Djuunya’s Piece of Shit Skiff | D’Takka | Qo’Nos] Attn: @Dumedion @Ellen Fitz @Juzzie @Eirual @RyeTanker @ob2lander961
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?”

Re: Day 15 [1727 hrs] An Rousing Experience of Klingon Culinary Confusion

Reply #102
[Ens. Talia "Shadow" Al-Ibrahim | Last Blast of the Night | D'Takka | Qo'noS] Attn: @Ellen Fitz @RyeTanker @rae @Eirual @Juzzie @ob2lander961
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?”


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 :)

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