To the Manner Born
Episode Name: To the Manner Born Written By: Forutunae Cast: Churas, Cristobal, Fortunae, Gorgha and Sulkat. Produced By: Starfleet Directed By: Fortunae Aired On: Sat Apr 12 00:06:44 2003 Stardate: 53135.5
Time: Fri Apr 11 14:45:34 2003
Stardate: 53134.6
A Federation Executive Shuttle curves into the atmosphere of Balduk from an orbital approach. Borrowed by the Task Force from the U.S.S. Scimiter so that vessel may continue towards Starbase 123, the shuttle made it's way through the Balduk system at full impulse under the Diplomatic Flag of Station 419's Klingon Cultural Attache, 2nd Legate Intern Aliana Cerene. The premise being they were stopping over for some shopping and cultural recreation to later rendezvous with a Federation vessel to take them onward to the farflung Federation Starbase on the farside of this narrow peninsula of Klingon space bordering along the Romulan Star Empire. The shuttle slipped past the House vessels securing this strategic border system while the task force finalized their plans -- land, get accomodations then begin investigating carefully.
Despite the offer by the Scimiter's Bolian doctor to provide the humans with cosmetic surgery to pass as Klingons, Cerene avoided a reaction of outrage from Gorgha and Churas by pointing out that posing as a Klingon is a capital offense under Klingon Law -- and if they were found out doing such then diplomatic credentials or not, alliance or not, death would come swiftly. So it that after the shuttle lands at the spaceyard, and is checked by unfriendly Klingon Customs officers, the mixed crew sets out into the city of Balduk-Q'os with the Humans and Betazoid wearing voluminous cowled robes to conceal their true features from casual observation.
Soon, they are booked into quarters at a Warrior Caste Hostel -- The Vrg'Chok G'la - and it is in Doctor Gorgha's suite that they meet to discuss their next move.
Churas paces in, hands folded behind her back, and grumbles a sort of discontent-sounding greeting to the older Klingon. "Son of Klakk." She frees her hands from their clasping behind her back and tugs on her armor idly. Restless? No. Not at all.
. o O Churas thinks "Now what? We've come so far, and I still do not understand entirely /what/ we intend to do here. Only that it seemed... the thing to do."
Gorgha looks up from his chair and grunts in greeting to all as they enter his suite. He reads from his battered old Imperial issue PADD an gestures vaguely some refreshments that he's had sent up for the task force on a nearby table. All Klingon fare though. He sets his PADD aside and rises to meeet the rest of the the group.
Cristobal enters behind Churas. "Doctor," he says, nodding in greeting. The same sword he wore on H'atoria not long ago is again worn across his back.
Sulkat enters last, picking an empty spot in which to stand. He says nothing, simply nodding to Gorgha.
One hand extended to Gorgha, Churas briefly clasps his forearm in greeting before moving over to get food. Mmm. Real, live /gagh./ Mmm. "So now what." This is asked, in a manner of speaking, even as she dishes herself some of the same, and picks a bit more raw meat off of another tray to drop into the sauce. Might as well eat while she has the chance.
Gorgha takes a seat at the table and motions for the others to sit if they wish after returning Churas' greeting. "Shall we begin then? I'm certain I don't need to reiterate the danger that lurks here for us. This is the Sta'TORuk Clan's primary seat of power. We'd be fools to proceed without a plan." He then dishes himself up some gagh with a little bit of targ's heart on the side.
Cristobal sits. Having anticipated the culinary situation, he pulls a few packets of Starfleet combat rations out of one of the pockets on his robe. He holds two of them out to Sulkat or Cerene, should either wish them. He says, "I confess I don't really know where to begin."
Targ /heart,/ but is there... ahha. Liver. Hey, if there's a good chance this will be your /last/ meal, better make sure you get your favorite. Mmm, liver. Dropping a chunk of the same into the gagh to soak, Churas drops herself into a chair and begins to eat, idly crunching on the squirming grubs as they perish in their toxic sauce. "Agreed." She gestures toward the Imperial-make PADD Gorgha has been reading from. "Well. We need information. There are a limited number of ways to obtain said information. I. Ah. Confess to have at least one idea, if no one has a better one." A sidelong glance toward Cristobal at this. Oh dear.
Cristobal arches an eyebrow at Churas. He finds himself suspicious of that look.
Cerene suggests that considering they flew in under her credentials, she should probably keep close to the hotel and help from there as she can -- at least until they can be sure she's not being followed. Unsaid is the part about being less likely to be abducted again this way if she sits in the lobby or dining hall.
Gorgha pops a wriggling, writhing stinging little worm into his mouth and says. "Not an easy question to answer, Cristobal. I too have an idea but let's hear yours, Daughter of Gr'laH." with that he takes a good sized bite out of his targ's heart. The congealed blood in the heat's chambers staining the edges of his white moustache pink.
"Oh, no, son of Klakk, please, let us hear yours first." Whatever Churas's idea is, it's obviously not something she's entirely comfortable with; she agrees with Cerene's idea as far as her involvement is concerned.
Gorgha says, "Most of the major houses, employ physicians from other clans. Usually by necessity. I was hoping to speak to some of the other healers in the area to see if they could give us any information that could prove useful."
Cristobal opens up the plastic packet, quietly munching the disc-shaped 'food' inside. He nods at Gorgha and glances over at Churas, "That seems sensible, Doctor. What was your idea Churas?" he says.
Cough. "Something, ah. Rather similar. Albeit slightly different in focus. I am, after all, female." Okay. Anyone frightened by the idea of Churas using her feminine wiles for information, raise your hand. She raises her shoulders and drops them again. "Such a thing should not be too difficult. I might suggest breaking up into two parties and attempting both avenues."
Gorgha says, "And what of Cristobal?"
See Cristobal. See Cristobal's eyebrow. See Cristobal's eyebrow attempt to leap off of his forehead and climb through the ceiling. "I'm /not/ female," he replies dryly.
Gorgha says, "This is true, you are also not a healer. Hence my question."
Sulkat stands quietly. He might as well be a statue at this point, although, he does blink. Not dead, then.
"Neither is Lt. Sulkat," notes Churas, before fishing her chunk of targ liver out of the bowl and popping it into her mouth. Chew chew swallow. "So. Could we send one with each? Pass one off as an apprentice of yours, have the other shadow me?"
Gorgha nods. "Very well. Cristobal, you're with me. It is known that I used to teach at both our Academy as well as Starflett Academy. You are a former pupil of mine, doing a directed, post academy training in Klingon anatomy."
Cristobal frowns for some reason, but does not say anything. He nods, if hesitantly, at Churas' suggestion. For a brief moment after Gorgha's suggestion, his face sours, but he stifles whatever he might have said. He's not going to object on /those/ grounds. He says, "Very well, though I hope none of them will quiz me on anything remotely medical." A glance towards Sulkat, "Unless you have any medical training, in which case you might be better for that particular task." Does he look almost hopeful?
Sulkat shakes his head, slightly. He stirs a little, shifting his balance from leg to the other. "Nope," he states, adding a small shrug to his shake of the head.
"I think that would have been the son of Eduardo's way of saying he would prefer to go with me," chuckles Churas, finishing off her gagh and fishing out the last bit of meat from her bowl. She eyes Gorgha for a moment and rolls her shoulders. "I cannot blame him. Either way, however, we should be under way."
Cerene suggests they set their communicators to buzz rathern then chirp; that way she can call or the group can call each other while seperated -- the buzzing indicates a need to check their PADDs for a text message.
Gorgha says, "It is all one to me. Let us be off then."
Cristobal's face colors slightly at Churas's frank phrasing, but he nods. Can't argue with the truth. He nods again at Cerene's suggestion and offers, "You might try to link with the planet's computer system, see if there's anything to be found that way."
GAME: Gorgha spends a courage point.
<CONTEST> Gorgha (claiming advantage) contests his History (Klingon) skill vs a difficulty of Challenging and Fails!
<CONTEST> Gorgha (claiming advantage) contests his History (Klingon) skill vs a difficulty of Moderate and Succeeds!
Churas, having no combadge, merely grunts her agreement with Cerene's assessment and gets to her feet. Armor straightened? Right. Picking up the bat'leth she brought with her -- really, she did -- she readies herself to go.
Sulkat nods slightly at Cerene's words. He opens his mouth to speak, but then shuts it again, frowning more than usual for a moment. "If you don't have any medical training, Lieutenant, then I don't see that it matters either way. I'll go with Doctor Gorgha."
Cristobal nods at Sulkat, making a mental note to buy the man a drink when they get back to the station.
Gorgha hurms at something on his PADD.
Later...
Doctor Gorgha and his "student" enter the Balduk-Q'os hospice after a walk down back streets and Gorgha soon makes arrangements to see a former student of his, Chot'da son of Muq'ta. After they are settled in Chot'da's office, he behind a heavy metal desk of what may be a Starship hull he asks...."And what may I do for you, my teacher?"
Gorgha after introductions are made Gorgha sits and says. "Greetings, Chot'da. I was in the area and thought I'd look in on an old student. You seem to be doing well for youself."
GAME: Gorgha spends a courage point.
<CONTEST> Gorgha (claiming advantage) contests his Charm (Persuasion) skill vs a difficulty of Routine and Fails!
<CONTEST> Sulkat contests his Charm (Persuasion) skill vs a difficulty of Moderate and Fails!
<CONTEST> Gorgha (claiming advantage) contests his Intimidation (Bluster) skill vs a difficulty of Moderate and Fails!
Doctor Chot'da leans back in his uncomfortable chair, "Yes things go well. The last I heard of you, Teacher, you were working at the Federation School on Earth."
Gorgha says, "That was some time ago. I served on a Federation Station to tend to Klingon casualties during the war but now that the war is over, I will likely be returning to the Empire."
"Ah yes. Maybe you should volunteer to serve on a ship on the Nausicaan dog's border... perhaps then you might get a chance to die in battle still... or... wait. Your adopted daughter... she was involved in the bombing of Bak'TUR was she not? Now I remember, she helped those responsible escape as I heard. That must have been painful for you to bear." Chot'da responds.
Sulkat says nothing, glancing between Chot'da and Gorgha as they speak.
Meanwhile....
...across town, Churas and Cristobal have found a favorite watering hole of the warriors of House Sta'TORuk. Inside the dark and smokey low roofed building, Klingons roar and spill blood wine between songs of glory and valor and honor. The couple slip inside and after some time of observation from a table near the wall, Churas is able to pick out a large minor member of the noble family Sta'TORuk with his personal clique of warriors.
Churas, having picked her target, so to speak, from the crowd, offers Cristobal a sidelong glance filled with any number of silent messages, up to and including apology. Rising from her table, the be-armored female stalks confidently to the bar, shoving her way directly /through/ a knot of Warriors on her way there without really much difficulty whatsoever. Displays of strength and aggression, check. She pushes her hair back from her shoulder with one hand while clearing her space at the bar -- mistakenly held by some sot who was clearly deceived as to who belonged there only seconds before -- with the other and bellows, "Bloodwine!" as she thumps her fist on the bar. Display of lung capacity, check.
Cristobal looks up very briefly. His return glance has pretty much just one silent message, 'We'll discuss this later'. He leans his head back down so the upper portion of his face will be covered once more by the cowl.
The Bartender examines the girl carefully then pours her the drink, slamming it on the counter before extending his hand for the expected currency.
Churas stares back at the bartender blankly, as if to say, 'Yeah, /and?/ We have a problem?' before producing the currency from where it's hidden in her armor -- best not to think about that -- and slapping it into his hand. Transaction completed, she turns slightly from the bar, lifting her bloodwine to her lips and skimming the crowd in that way that women do when they've got a target and are actually looking to gauge reaction.
A tall warrior with rich curly hair pulled into a flattering pony tail in the middle of his back leans up on the bar neck to Churas. He assess her bounty openly and without fear or rejection. "I am Londas, son of Vlarok. I find your manner pleasing."
Cristobal sits silently, not looking away from Churas. When the server arrives, he gruffly growls, "Baghol," without looking up, choose the slightly more innocuous Klingon beverage over bloodwine. He hands over a bit of currency.
Churas assesses the tall warrior through slightly narrowed eyes, her lips pulling back in a sneer. She takes a good swallow of her bloodwine before answering. "As well you should, son of Vlarok. I am Churas, daughter of Gr'laH." Her chin tilts up slightly, an imperious expression that both Vor'mak and Cristobal have seen in turns coming over her face. 's'right. All this blooded Warrior goodness, and the daughter of a war hero, too.
"I do not recognize you," he says. "But the name Gr'lah has meaning. Is your father here as well?" He looks about perhaps searching for the mentioned parent.
When his drink arrives, Cristobal takes a medium-sized of the warm spiced ale (Klingons don't sip) in silence. He keeps his eyes on his drink, hoping no one associates him with Churas. He might be able to get Gr'laH's temperment down, but no one who gets a good look at him is likely to confuse him with a one-eyed, one-armed Klingon war hero. To say nothing of the whole Cris-doesn't-speak-Klingon problem.
Churas is undeterred by this non-recognition, rolling her shoulders and replying, "More will, in time. I am yet young." Young, strong, and, hey, if she happens to lean in such a way as to optimally display her child-bearing hips? Well, that just /has/ to be coincidence. "He is not. I am merely stopping over here on my way through Klingon space; his diplomatic duties keep him elsewhere."
. o O Cristobal thinks "Urge...to kill...rising"
"Ah so, your father is Gr'lah son of Go'lah then. His name is known to me. Truely his is blessed by fortune to have such courage as a warrior, and to have such promising daughter. Has he chosen a mate for you or has that choice be left to your own choice? I must know this for you are far too fine a speciman to be loose in the Empire without such an arrangement, not when so many warriors could forget themselves at the sight of you and plunge themselves into honorless peril." Londas says with gruff smoothness, his appraisal still undaunted and open.
In the unlikely event that anyone was watching the slow-moving fellow in the corner, a very perceptive watcher might note that he grips his mug rather tightly for casual drinking. Cristobal remains silent.
She accepts the compliment as if it were simply matter of fact. Of /course/ her father has courage as a warrior and has a promising daughter. /Duh./ "That has been left to my own choice. The daughter of Gr'laH is able to defend herself against any who would attempt to put her honor at peril," Churas replies with a sure-of-herself growl low in the throat. She gives the appraisal no mind, as if it isn't happening at all. Who, her? Psha.
"So then a worthy suitor must first put himself to the test against your warrior mettle before he would test his blade against your virtue itself, eh?" Londas smiles again, a rather roguishly attractive confident smile, the kind that surely sends Klingon females into a feeling of light-headedness when he offers it. "I have some time to devote to such a test right now. Finish your bloodwine and we will see --"
Londas is interepted by a call from Kurn'val of House Sta'TORuk, who rises drunkenly from his seat and bellows -- "LONDAS -- you devil -- hic -- I told you to bring the woman here for /my/ pleasure not chat at her yourself! Now, bring here hence or -- hic -- shall I shall feed you to the skull crows!" That Kurn'val sits back down is fact, whether it was intentional or driven by his drink is debateabl.
. o O Churas thinks "Keep your brain about you, Nathan. I love you. You /know/ I love you. This is just a show. I am securing the Empire. Once this is over..."
Cristobal is now convinced that he will kill /someone/ before he leaves this bar. Meanwhile, sitting and drinking in silence is his only option, (outside of declaring war on House Sta'TORuk, which he discards as impractical.)
And it might work in earnest on Churas, too, were she not already a teenager stupidly in love with someone else. As it is, she just fakes it well, starting to turn a smug and of course flattered smile down into her bloodwine when Kurn'val interrupts the conversation. She looks over the drunken male for a long moment with a bland expression, then turns her eyes back to Londas. Her expression is so clearly readable that passingt spaceships could pick up on its message. It reads, 'You have GOT to be /kidding me./ /HIM?/' Ahh, brass and bluster.
The expression Londas makes is actually one of suffering annoyance, clearly he is suffering this Kurn'val at someone elses instruction or because of some duty. He says with utter lack of conviction, "Kurn'val son of Rakt'gar desires your company." Then more earnestly, "It would be best if you humored his desires regardless of your personal choice, unless of course today is a good day to die."
Cristobal, with the hand hiding under his robe, absently fingers his phaser. He quietly reconsiders war as an option. He hides the unpleasant expression on his face behind the mug as he takes another drink.
"I will /humor/ his desires," replies Churas, staring flatly at Londas with complete eye contact and the sort of expression which makes it clear there's only /so far/ she'll humor said desires, and, additionally, that if there's anybody whose attentions she's actually /interested/ in around here, it sure as /hell/ isn't Kurn'val's. That said, she shoves her way through the crowd toward the table occupied by the members of house Sta'TORuk.
<CONTEST> Churas (claiming advantage) contests her Charm (Seduction) skill vs a difficulty of Routine and Succeeds!
GAME: Cristobal spends a courage point.
<CONTEST> Cristobal contests his Presence (Willpower) skill vs a difficulty of Moderate and Succeeds!
And so Churas joins the Klingons while Cristobal simmers. She sits beside Kurn'val laughing at his jokes, suffering the occassional touch of his hand while Cristobal simmers and glowers. She sits beside Kurn'val, eyes locked lips moving in a pattern more intoxicating to him then the blood wine and Cristobal simmers and glowers and fumes. Soon Kurn'val is offering to share some of his "private reserve" and she is accepting and she is getting up and they are going up stairs to the rooms above the tavern and Cristobal simmers and glowers and fumes and rages internally but sits there drinking and doing ...nothing.
Some time later Churas returns from upstairs alone... some of Kurn'val's drunken friends howling and making off color jokes... and Londas considers her thoughtfully as she passes from the tavern and back outside.
Cristobal watches as Churas leaves. His urge is to leap up after her, but he waits, finishing the last of the baghol. It can't seem that he is leaving because of her.
Churas stalks through, unmindful of the off-color jokes -- and, in fact, laughing them off entirely with a shake of her head and an expression as clear as a constellation which reads /AS/ /IF/ -- bat'leth strapped to her back, one hand resting idly on her dk'tagh.
Sometime later, back at the Vrg'Chok G'la the task force links up to discuss what they have found. Gorgha and Sulkat after some difficulty learned that there are large numbers of other Great House ships about, perhaps some sort of meetings of the Houses... then it is Churas and Cristobal's turn to reveal what successes they may or may not have had...
Churas returns some time ahead of Cristobal, removing her bat'leth and slumping into a chair in Gorgha's quarters. The weapon is propped across her knees, and she eschews bloodwine and food, looking for all the world as if she might be ill; despite her rather disgusted expression, she retains the contents of her stomach. Ugh. The female waits moodily for the other party to report, as well as Cristobal to return.
Cristobal arrives some time later, with an expression on his face that could bore a hole in solid rock. Having not heard what Churas learned, (and just what she had to do to learn it), he glowers questioningly at her.
The stare which meets Cristobal's glower is flat and uneventful; it's not challenging, it's comprised entirely of 'say it.'
"There will be a meeting tonight, at the fortress manor of the Sta'TORuk. Many representatives of powerful and ancient Imperial Houses have assembled for this meeting." Churas says all of this in a completely deadpan tone, never looking away from Cristobal or breaking her gaze. C'mon, /say/ it. Say you think there's even a /chance/ I /actually/ compromised myself for this information. I DARE YOU. "It would seem obvious that the answers we seek lie there, and gaining entry to the is the only real path open to us."
There's decidedly more than one 'it' that Cristobal could say. What he says is, "How can we get inside?" Any other questions he plans on asking will wait.
"Sneak." Churas says that word with about as much love as she might say the word 'cheese.' Given the Klingon dislike for such things, chances are that means the idea doesn't appeal to her. At. All. "That seems the only real option."
"You mean you couldn't..." Cristobal chokes that off mid-sentence. "Right," he says instead, "Sneak."
*shink* Churas's dk'tagh comes out of its sheath and *CHUNK* she drives it point-down into the table. "... sit around and let an old man stare at me and brag about his accomplishments and his plans until he passes out stinking drunk? Somehow I do not think that will work this time around, /Nathan,/ and if you /had/ any better ideas, perhaps you should have /said/ them. If you have /complaints/ about how I /handled/ myself, register them after we are /off/ of this /planet./" Because that's /just/ what needs to happen right now. A relationship spat. "Yes. Sneak." She shoves herself out of her chair and wrenches her dk'tagh from the table. "Shall. We?"
. o O Churas thinks "I cannot /believe/ he even /doubts/ me. After all the favor I have shown him, all I have /done/ for him. I have advocated him to my father, I have... I have KISSED HIM. REPEATEDLY. /MALES./ Honestly."
Cristobal grumbles incoherently. He shoves his own chair aside and stands, growling, "After you, starshine." He's not going to get into it now, but he's apparently not going to just let it go, either. He comforts himself that Kurn'val is snoring with a bottle for company, while he's still with her.
GAME: Cristobal spends a courage point.
<CONTEST> Cristobal (claiming advantage) contests his Stealth (Stealthy Movement) skill vs a difficulty of Routine and Succeeds!
GAME: Churas spends a courage point.
<CONTEST> Churas (claiming advantage) contests her Stealth (Stealthy Movement) skill vs a difficulty of Routine and Succeeds!
It became very clear during the covert hike to the Sta'TORuk Manor that some are simply more attuned to stealth then others; Churas was somewhat mollified by Gorgha's suggestion to not think of it as sneaking so much as Cloaking with shadows to gain advantage on a foe and less being furtive spies -- tactics rather then sneakiness. What was clear of course was that Gorgha and Cerene were simply not cut out for this sort of operation so as soon as the group scale the wall outside the fortified compound, it was decided the two of them should stay there in the shadows and not risk going in even further...slipping inside a door that was closing as a warrior came outside to patrol, the three remaining task force members slipped inside. Down stone corridors covered with trophies of ancient glories the moved around puddles of light to wells of darkness until they found themselves near the balcony walk over a large gallery.
Below them the gallery is filed with feasting tables and one is raised higher then the others, sitting at it's head before a 10m tall banner of the Klingon symbol they spy a Klingon that Churas immediately identifies as Kahlanan, the Patriarch of House Sta'TORuk. Around the tables Churas counts of scores of Klingons from great houses -- ancient houses that predated the Empire that spawned the IKDF and first went to war with the Federation until the Organian Peace Treaty sowed their eventual destruction. It appears that Kahlanan is rising to speak, so Sulkat slips out his Tricorder and sets it to record mode...
As they walked, Cristobal's anger has mollified somewhat, as the fact that this was for the mission, combined with the fact that, well, nothing actually /happened/... Cris would apologize...but they're very busy right now, so oh well! Cris listens silently.
Churas makes herself as unobtrusive as a six and a half foot tall fully-armored Klingon female with a bat'leth strapped to her back can possibly be. Considering the circumstances, however, that's not difficult; it's not like there's any shortage of tall Klingons about the place. She sinks into the shadows and listens.
"Friends! Brothers! KLINGONS!" Kahlanan son of Knalak begins. "Our plan progresses! The days of the false Chancellor are numbered and soon we will restore the Klingon Empire to it's RIGHTFUL place! Soon we will no longer suck at the teat of the Federation! Soon we shall follow the Destiny Kahless gave us in the age of legends! The Stars Belong to the KLINGONS!" At each rhetoric punched line, the Klingons roar and bang their hands on the tables making them shake and spilling some tankards of bloodwine.
"We have shown the weakness of Martok's false claim upon the hilt of the Bat'leth that is the empire! We have fooled the Kangs into squandering their fleets against the pathetic Nausicaans! We have tied the Romulans up in the Othan sector! We have brought to light Martok's plans to replace the House Fleets with his IKDF QI'yaH's."
"Even now the pretender Martok is preparing to attend the "summit" with the mewling Federation that betrayed Gowron and their Romulan dog allies -- and I say to you all -- HE WILL NEVER ARRIVE!" There is more roaring and cheering.
Churas's eyes widen, and her jaw sets. Deep breath in. Deep breath out. She gestures to the other two to remain where they are. Keep recording. Keep listening. They need more /details./
Cristobal gets a sour look on his face. He arches a brow at Churas, though behind his cowl she probably doesn't see it. He stood around while she followed a drunk up to his room, she thinks he's going to run from this? He remains in the shadows where they stand, silent and unmoving.
The Task Force focuses on the words from Kahlanan -- but then... there is a distraction...
...a low feral growling distration... close... too close. Sulkat looks up into the face of a huge reddish beast with six legs, razor sharp claws on each paw... and a mouth full of keenly edged teeth open inches from his face, foul saliva dripping down to drop on the floor. From the shadows beyond the first three more of the beast slink into view, bodies coiled as if to spring... one of them lets lose a hunting howl and this is joined by all but the one closest to Sulkat...
Cristobal's mind runs through a few ideas. Running out of good ones early, his only choice left is the phaser at his hip, or the sword on his back. The fear of using the phaser is that it will inform the Klingons below of exactly what is happening, whereas random fighting might leave that in doubt. Still...no, he's not yet sure enough of his swordsmanship to try that out. He pulls out his phaser and fires at the beast slobbering near Sulkat. Time to get to work.
<CONTEST> Cristobal (claiming advantage) contests his Energy Weapon (Phaser) skill vs a difficulty of Moderate and Succeeds!
Bat'leth freed from her back in a smooth, practiced motion, Churas charges the next beast on down the line. The time she and Cristobal spent in the holodeck fighting other opponents -- as opposed to each other, an all-too-common occurence -- serves her well in this instance. He takes one, she takes the next. Nice beastie. Want a treat? How 'bout a blade in the throat to shut you up? She is, however, strangely silent as she goes about this work.
GAME: Churas spends a courage point.
<CONTEST> Churas (claiming advantage) contests her Primitive Weaponry (Bat'leth) skill vs a difficulty of Difficult and Fails!
The beast leap to the attack, Sulkat is borne under the beast near him as it pounces -- unable to get out of the way. He brings his left arm up in an attempt to block the biting maw as it comes for his neck and is unable to bat the head off target -- instead its teeth sink into his forearm and rend splattering him in a shower of his own blood. He doesn't scream, he doesn't cry out -- his right hand having found it's target brings his phaser to the side of the creature and fires making it glow for a moment with the phased energy pumped into it's body until collapses heavily atop him, teeth still sunk into his flesh.
Cristobal, no stranger to life and death combat situations doesn't hesitate and his beam catches the creature leaping for him in the throat and rolls it back head over tail from the impact of the beam before depositing it roughly and without motion upon the stone flooring.
As the Daughter of Gr'lah moves to engage with her mighty bat'leth she finds that the Nausicaan Devil Dogs are not unfamiliar with being attacked by such weapons and her target side steps her swing in a sideways shuffling duck then pounces toward her... the fourth creature finding Cristobal an open target springs at him with teeth gnashing and razor claws extended ....
GAME: Churas spends a courage point.
<CONTEST> Cristobal (claiming advantage) contests his Unarmed Combat (Starfleet Martial Arts) skill vs a difficulty of Challenging and Succeeds!
<CONTEST> Churas (claiming advantage) contests her Primitive Weaponry (Bat'leth) skill vs a difficulty of Moderate and Succeeds!
<CONTEST> Cristobal (claiming advantage) contests his Energy Weapon (Phaser) skill vs a difficulty of Routine and Succeeds!
<CONTEST> Churas (claiming advantage) contests her Primitive Weaponry (Bat'leth) skill vs a difficulty of Challenging and Succeeds!
From what Cris remembers of animals, their muscles for closing jaws are generally more powerful than those for opening it. Cris holds out his left arm to give the Devil Dog something to bite at, then pulls it away rapidly. The Dog's teeth clamp shut on empty air. While the beast's momentum causes it to bump into Cristobal, he jabs the phaser into the underside of the creature's snout. He asks quietly, "You ok Churas?" and then fires.
From the gallery hall below a voice booms -- "INTRUDERS! Get them my brethren!" And a beat later, after the first Federation phaser discharges go off the voice comes again, "FEDERATION SPIES! THEY MUST NOT GET OFF THE BALDUK ALIiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiive!" A roar of violent intention rocks the rafters in response.
A low snarl escapes Churas's throat almost instinctually as the Devil Dog leaps at her. A clash of claws and teeth against the metal of her bat'leth brings a low whine of clawtips across metal before, in a display of brute strength and skill, the daughter of Gr'laH displays that /these/ devil dogs do not have creamy fillings, but in fact are all full of blood and guts. Mmm, blood and guts. "Never better, Nathan," growls Churas, as she extracts herself -- a mess of bloody armor -- from beneath the creature. "Let's /go./ We can't fight them all. Every one of them has twice my experience on the battlefield. The Empire is more important than this fight." Rationalize, rationalize, rationalize.
Sulkat grits his teeth, still not showing any undue emotional reaction to what has transpired, flicking his thumb across his Phaser II to adjust it to the cutting tool setting, he activates the trigger and a narrow orange beam emits from his weapon and neatly cuts the head from the beast along the mouth allowing him to pull his arm still clamped in teeth free. He and Cristobal easily roll the creature off of him and he gestures with his good arm toward the stairs they came up, obviously in support of Churas' suggestion of an egress as he rises to his feet, his blood still dripping with heavy plops to the stone surface of the floor.
Cristobal mutters dryly, "I hadn't planned on suggesting otherwise." After the creature is removed and the begin their escape, he says to Sulkat, "Sir, when we get out of the building, you need to beam aboard the Al-Wazif first," he says, referring to their shuttlecraft, "Get your recording into the computer and send an encrypted message to the station, and to Ambassador Worf on Qo'nos. With luck, we'll have beamed aboard by the time you've done that. If not. Run."
Churas scans the area as the two men converse, moving toward the stairs and taking the lead on this particular maneuver, her bat'leth at the ready, nostrils flaring as she attempts to overcome the stink of blood on her armor and keep all senses tuned for possible attack. "Nathan. I think running is quite possibly advisable /now."
<CONTEST> Fortunae contests his Shipboard Systems (Transporters) skill vs a difficulty of Challenging and Fails!
The two officers and the Klingon warrior emerge from the Manor house at a full sprint with howls hot on their heels and warriors seeking blood swiftly behind the sound. As they race across the darkened courtyard toward the wall where they left Gorgha and Cerene, Sulkat attempts to guide the shuttles transporter to lock on them and beam him out -- to no effect. His expression remains bland if pained, and Gorgha is already helping Cerene over the wall. The Task Force is slipping over the side as the first disrupter blasts start pouring past them and into the surface beneath them. Dropping to the street on the otherside Gorgha wastes no time prying the teeth from Sulkat's arm and sealing the bleeding closed with his dermal renerator... but not overly closed because it's still time to run!
Churas, bat'leth in hand, runs full-tilt. Surely, this is a proud moment for the former House of Gr'laH -- god only knows which brother has taken it over since Uncle Cho'daQ's death -- as the daughter of that house's eldest son runs away from a fight. Damnit.
. o O Churas thinks "The Empire is more important than this fight. The Empire is more important than this fight. The Empire is more important than this fight. The Empire is more important than this fight..."
GAME: Cristobal spends a courage point.
<CONTEST> Cristobal (claiming advantage) contests his Shipboard Systems (Flight Control) skill vs a difficulty of Moderate and Succeeds!
As he runs, Cristobal taps his combadge and says, "Cristobal to Al-Wazif. Engage autopilot. Launch immediately, and land one hundred meters to the north of my present location," that being the direction they happen to be running. "Best possible speed," he adds unnecessarily.
Moments later the executive shuttle Al-Wazif comes screaming over the rooftops making tiles flip off and shutters tear to flinders in it's passing...it sweeps over the heads of the sprinting mission team heading towards it directed landing spot...
... And then explodes in a huge ball of fire and rush of heat.
Boiling chunks of what was once the Federation Shuttle tumble across the roofs of the buildings beyond their sprint, fires begin to spread in a flash of a winking eye... and above them the B'rel that killed the Al-Wazif screams by overhead the pull of it's wake almost tossing them from their feet.
And that is when the realization that they are stuck on Balduk sinks in.
