A Little War
Episode Name: A Little War Written By: Fortunae Cast: AMI, Claness, Dovoro, Ghorev, Golden, Havaris, Idrani, K'net-mauri,
Kor, Medes, Meridian, Nolte, Novairen, Shaft, Stewart and Turtledove. Produced By: Starfleet Directed By: Shaft Aired On: Mon Apr 28 22:37:30 2003 Stardate: 53176.2
From Out's comm, Turtledove says "Lt.Jg. Turtledove. I was invited by Claness..."
Time: Mon Apr 28 18:29:17 2003
Stardate: 53175.8
Nolte says into Out comm, "Oh," She starts cheerily, "do please come alone in."
Idrani is sitting on the floor, her back up against one of the sofas, reading a PADD. She has a puzzled expression on her face as she idly scratches the base of one antennae.
Turtledove comes in from the corridor.
Turtledove has arrived.
Novairen comes in from the corridor.
Novairen has arrived.
Claness walks into the lodge, a spring in his step and a smile on his face.
Idrani sits on the floor, her back against one of the sofas. She is reading through a PADD with a puzzled expression. Finally, she turns it off with a sigh. She says in Andorian, "I'll worry about it later." That is said almost to herself.
Nolte moves from the door after a string of greetings. She has been excited all day-- scratch that. All week. Still licking her wounds for the crushing (and early) defeat of team Ivari, a fanatic love of the game will not be dissuaded in the young ensign. Though she does sport an Ivari anklecuff for good luck, grinning ear to ear. Game is gonna start. Woooooohoo.
Turtledove smiles at Nolte, while giving the place a good look-over, as much as can be accomplished while walking over to Idrani by the sofa. Curious place, this is.
The President and his immediate party are seated around the holographic image projector that was installed into the floor of the center of the lodge for this purpose. The Pregame show is currently in effect, interspersed with Andorian funny commercials for Andorian products. Speaking of Andorian products, the Ale kegs are tapped and the President is enjoying a mug of the good stuff even now. The teams in the finals, The Ghorev, the Claness and the Andorian Military Institute team.
Golden samples from the table of Andorian snackables with enthusiasm.
Idrani smiles as Turtledove approaches. "Hey, Tera. Are you ready for your first Kochec finals experience?"
OOC: The Kochek championships pre-game show is starting in the Lodge, so for you Andorians or those who were invited, it's time to think about boogying up to deck 15, 1501.
Novairen pauses upon entering the lodge and wraps her arms around herself with a shiver. She shakes her head, drops her arms, and continues on in. She really should be used to this by now. Her path takes her across the room to where the President and his party is.
"Oh yes." Turtledove speaks with a gentle exuberance. "It'll be my first Kochec game. I hear it's a very... rugged sport." She smiles to Idrani, as she settles down beside her, on the floor.
Ghorev comes in from the corridor.
Ghorev has arrived.
Idrani nods. "Oh, it is. And the finals are always particularly interesting. Should be something." She sits on the floor, with her back against one of the sofas. "You can grab a fur, if you're cold."
Claness beelines towards the kegs, pouring himself a tall one that sloshes over the rim of his mug. Seeing that Cmdr. Ghorev as arrived, he sends a grin towards the ranking Andorian of S-419. "I'm pouring, Commander. Would you like an ale?"
Ghorev stands at the door. He does not chime first. The doors simply .... part. And then, very deliberately, he does something unheard of in the history of the lodge on Station 419: He enters. "No," he says, to Claness, as he crosses the threshold. "But thank you."
Idrani calls over to Claness, "Can you pour me one, Thalev? While you're still sober enough to get most of it /in/ the cup?" She grins.
Dovoro steps out of the sleeping area and crosses the main area of the lodge, joining the rest of her Andorians. "Hello, everyone!" she calls out as she approaches the gathering.
Claness does a general nod in reply to both Ghorev and Idrani, grabbing another mug and filling it up. He sips the foam off of the top this time, heading over and handing it to Idrani. He then takes a seat on the floor, eyes going to the holoprojector.
"Fur..." Turtledove's eyes sweep around the room in response to Idrani's question, coming to rest on a pile of furs. Her eyebrows go up a smidge. "Yes, that would be... a good thing. Even with the sweater... and the boots... and the gloves.." She smiles then goes. To get fur.
Idrani murmurs, "Thanks," to Claness, then sets the cup down carefully on her /other/ side. "So, did you hear from your brothers?" She asks him.
Turtledove casts a quick glance over her shoulder, catching the entrance of Ghorev with a brief thoughtful pause, then turns away to pick an appropriate fur.
The president notices Ghorev's arrival with a happy expression and says, "Akeen Ghorev! Now the Party can start in earnest... with the Ghorev, Claness and AMI in the matches, your own verbal sparring should add an element like we are there to mix! Anyone wish to place odds on first team to score, first team to take a casulty?"
Ghorev says, "I'll do the diplomatic thing and lay odds on AMI for both," quietly, as he steps between sprawled spectators. "At least for now. I might change my mind after a few minutes."
Claness nods in response to Idrani's question, a slightly slack-jawed expression on his face as he watches the very last of the pre-game shows to air. "He sent me "my" old jersey..." blink blink. "Oh, and a package that I wasn't supposed to open until game-time." Claness takes a large draw from his ale, then sets it down before springing to his feet and heading over to a package by the door. Opening the shipping container, Thalev pulls out a shirt from the top of a pile of shirts, looks at it and laughs. He balls up the shirt and tosses it to Idrani. On the front of the shirt is the entire Claness Kochek team, posing naked, with their hands covering their most intimate anatomy. "Keth Claness Co-ed Naked Kochek" is written in Gralek on the back.
Golden balances his plate of snacks and his fresh mug of ale and as he joins the group sitting around the projector glad for the translation services of his combadge, he asks, "Now... I know that Thalev Claness has a brother is it? On the Claness team... are any of your immediate releatives on the Ghorev team, Sir?"
Ghorev says, "Not immediate, no." He shakes his head as he walks, and finally takes up a standing position near a low slung divider 'ledge' where one of the heaters rests. "Of my brothers and sisters, only three of us had any real talent for the game, and all of us serve in uniform."
Nolte huffs, sittind down with her own ale. She says in Andorian, "It best not be the Military institute or my little brother will have won a bet."
Idrani catches the balled up shirt, then looks at it. She chuckles. "Which one is your brother?" she asks Claness. With typical Andorian regard for modesty, she pulls off the sweatshirt she was wearing and replaces it with the Co-ed Naked shirt. She replies to the President, "I think the AMI will take the first loss. They're younger than the keth teams and will be less conservative with their play, out of the gate."
Dovoro gets herself a mug of Endilev and takes a long drink from it as she walks over to join the group.
Turtledove, meanwhile, picks through furs with a curious expression, eyeing them inquisitively, comparing and contrasting. For all her efforts, the sheer number and variety of furs has her making a choice pretty much arbitrarily... not too thin, not too thick. She folds the thing over and starts walking back to the couch, side-stepping lounging inhabitants with a cheery smile.
. o O Turtledove thinks "Fur feels... nice...."
In Graalen, the Holocast announces, "AND NOW -- booming background music and cheering/roaring -- IN-TRO-DUCING your CHAMPIONNNNN-SHIP con-TEN-derrrrrrrrs... Representing the Andorian Military Institute -- Team Captain Ghorval RIM-MOSIiiiiiiiiiiii"... the AMI team is introduced player by player with interspersed seasonal stats...
Claness slips off his shirt and grabs one of the "Nekkid" shirts for himself, his grin coming into view as he pulls the shirt over his head. "The big one." He says simply, then wanders back over and sits down. He looks towards Ghorev, nodding, then turns his attention towards the Kor. "The first score will belong to the AMI, who will decide the outcome of the match. Ghorev and Claness will not together as a unit very effectively. That being said, the first casualty will come to...." he shuts up, eyes going to the holovid. Claness almost titters as he scoops up his ale.
With her silver eyes twinkling, Dovoro watches the introductions of the players and takes another long sip from her ale.
Idrani shifts position to get comfortable, watching the holoprojection.
Golden after sucking the meat off the bone of an item from his plate, asks "So you don't think youth, vigor and cohesive training will play in the AMI team's favor?" This to Idrani.
Idrani shakes her head. "They don't have the experience for the long haul. And if anything will get the Claness and the Ghorev teams to work together when the AMI has their 'down' round, it will be the chance to put the young kids in their place."
Ghorev says, "Youth and vigor play offense. Age and cunning play defense. It's the way of the Universe."
Golden nods. "Good point."
Kor says, "There is more to this than simple age anyway -- consider that we Andorians live much longer comparatively in a hale state to you humans; and consider this is a match between pride in a school -- which is important, and the pride and honor of your entire keth. It is tradition, it is respect -- it is permission to swagger impudently for an entire year. These things -- are important."
Idrani nods. "I think that the bragging rights are considered more important than the trophy."
Meridian comes in from the corridor.
Meridian has arrived.
Claness shrugs. "Fewer duels are fought over the trophy." He smiles, watching the holo-vid.
Turtledove's eyes move curiously between conversants as she plops down on the other side of Idrani, fur first. She listens quietly as she settles, her eyes carefully returning to the holoprojection and the rapidly scrolling stats... not unlike a bad student avoiding eye-contact with her teacher.
Meridian slips into the room, taking a good long glance at the surroundings, before noticing Idrani. He nods to her, and remains near the door, hands tucked into the pockets of his parka, continuing to take in the scene.
Idrani sits on the floor, with her back against one of the sofas, between Turtledove and Claness. Eyes on the holoprojection, she sips occasionally at a large mug of Endilev ale. Her antennae move slightly in the direction of the door. Spotting the new arrival, she smiles. "Good evening, Ambassador. Welcome."
In Graalen the announcing continues..."Coming off a Crushingly clear victory over the Kor and Ivari teams last week in the semi-finals in Lor'Vela, Team Ghorev is sporting the most even mixture of young talent and cagey veterans, including Phrell "The Snapper" Ghorev who not only leads the league in scoring, but in removing opposing team players from the ice as well. Over the last five years his casulty numbers are an Ice Cracking average of 4.3 players per game for each season! WOW!..." The Ghorev team is announced in detail as a "jazzed up" version of the Keth warsong is rendered for the audience of billions Federation wide.
Ghorev comes to attention at the song, of course. But hums along.
Idrani idly wonders how you can injure three-tenths of a player. She smiles to herself, sips her ale.
President Rosarev Kor, along with his fellow Kor, hisses and boos at the start of the Ghorev announcement, after all, they sent his team packing back home, but this only lasts until they start announcing the players and playing thier battle song, respect due, respect given.
Turtledove's eyes slide discretely around the immediate vicinity.
Claness grins, looking over at the Kor. "I guess having the most comfortable transports and nicest uniforms didn't get the Kor into the finals this year."
Idrani was sipping her ale when Claness made his comment, then bursts out laughing, splattering the ale.
Havaris comes in from the corridor.
Havaris has arrived.
Meridian moves over slightly near Idrani and smiles beforing responding, "Thank you Lieutenant. Good evening to you as well. Thank you for extending an invitation to me."
Turtledove looks up from the floor, greeting Meridian with a smile and a friendly nod.
Kor says, "It's fortunate for you scores aren't based on fashionability or the Pakled Garbage Union would have had a better chance to make the playoffs than team Claness." Look over to see the new Ambassador, "John, get some food, get some ale and get a seat."
Havaris limps his way into the lodge, favoring his right side. Disruptor wounds are an ugly business. Noting the box of t-shirts, Kusto blinks twice and lets out a soft chuckle, deciding to grab himself a fur instead. He drapes it about his shoulders and finds himself a clear bit of floor out of the way of the general fracas. He settles down without much ado at all, offering quiet greetings to those who look his way.
Idrani comments, "I thought the red and gold contrasted nicely with the blood."
Ghorev, himself being somewhat out of the way, relaxes his stance as the Keth Ghorev fight song comes to an end. "Kusto," he pushes himself away from the wall and moves forward towards the other man.
Claness gives the Kor a good-natured frown, his antennae pointing back towards the door as Havaris arrives. He doesn't take his eyes off of the holo-projection, but does call back to the Operations Manager. "I heard you zigged instead of zagged, Kusto. You sound alive to me, though." He spares a glance towards Havaris, a smile on his face. "Welcome. The ale is cold and the food hot."
Meridian noting Turtledove's comments he nods in her direction, unsure if he has met the lithe young Terran before. He of course throws in a charming smile for effect. Then, noticing the entourage around the form of the President, he glances at Idrani before heading up to Kor, seemingly ignoring the guards around him. They know who he is anyway. "Mr. President, how is the game shaping up?" He asks in a jovial tone.
Havaris glances up at the now exceedingly much taller Ghorev with a tilt of the head, "Hello, Akeen. Grab a fur. Have a seat. Peldar Joi." Havaris then shifts his attention to Claness with a wry smirk, "I /said/ I was drawing their fire. I suppose I was just a bit too good at it for my own good. And, yes. I am still around and kicking." His attention then returns to Ghorev. He pats the ground beside him in further invitation.
"It's just getting started John," The president replies. "Have you met everyone here? You should." His eyes never leave the broadcast, which is now introducing the team Claness.
Ghorev takes the proffered seat, nodding, silently.
Golden takes his eyes of the match to scope out the new Ambassador, but only for a moment -- he swigs his ail, he wonders what Claness is talking about, and he is careful to prevent Turtledove from "borrowing" any of his munchies.
Meridian follows the President's gaze to the holobroadcast, nodding in understanding. "Well, Mr. President, to be honest, it's been a busy past few days... I've met several people here, but I am sure I will enjoy all of their acquaintances in the near future... I've never actually watched a game of Kochek before... I hear it can be quite.... brutal."
Turtledove is, for once, showing little interest in Golden's munchies. Her attention sweeps over her immediate companions, regarding them with discrete interest, intermittently switching between watching them and watching the holoprojection.
Claness grins at Havaris, offering the Bajoran a wink before turning back to the projection. His eyes scan the stats with a keen intensity. Pattern Recognition makes him somewhat of a numbers geek when it comes to sports.
Medes comes in from the corridor.
Medes has arrived.
K'net-mauri comes in from the corridor.
K'net-mauri has arrived.
Havaris leans aside to Ghorev, murmuring quietly without bothering to whisper in a lodge full of Andorians, "Vedek Toralin wishes to offer you his blessings in person, Akeen. You should visit the temple. The whole of Bajor is speaking your name favorably today." With that stated, Havaris tugs his fur tighter about him in an effort to retain some semblance of warmth.
Idrani gets up from her spot between Claness and Turtledove, carefully stepping around to avail herself of some of the food, while it is still hot. She nods to the newcomers. "Lieutenent Medes, Ambassador K'net-mauri, welcome." She smiles.
Ghorev says, "Truly?" And then adds, "Thank the planet for me." Boy, he sure does sound subdued. "How are you holding up?"
K'net-mauri comes in right behind Medes. He pauses and looks around the room. He's curious, and he smiles a little with the pleasure of novelty. Andorians are quite interesting. The young Lieutenant gets a solemn nod and he says, "Thank you, Jaylas Idrani."
It's kind of like the beginning to a joke. 'A Terran and a Romulan walk into an Andorian Lodge... ' Medes arrives just in front of K'net-mauri, in such a way as it's rather immediately clear that they didn't actually arrive /together./ She pauses off to the side of the door, shuffles her feet a bit, and -- ahha -- there's Kusto. Idrani is offered a brief nod as she maneuvers past the Andorian on her way to Havaris. "H'lo." A pause, and she appends to that, "Thank you," a few seconds after K'net-mauri does.
The announcer conctinues in Graalen, "And now, the Captains cleat from their zones of control toward the center where they will determine who will be the beseiged in the first round..." The three hulking Andorians match up one elbow to each, palm to palm, fingers interspersed, "for those unfamiliar with the sport, this is of key importance because the winner has control of the their defense while still retaining their full alottment of players, and they also win control of the puck during the fourt period grand melee..." At a signal the three Andorians begin to press and wrestle -- the Ghorev and Claness work together to shift and throw the AMI captain out of the ring, disqualifying him immediately, then turn on each other. It's a wrestling match, on ice, with cleats and a century of rivalry behind it. They push back and forth, seemingly evenly matched, but the Ghorev says something the Claness losing composure for only an instant, but that is long enough. Phrell "The Snapper" Ghorev lifts the Claness captain off the ice and then brings him spine first across his knee before bouncing him out of the ring... the stands erupt in noise and the the Ghorev cleats back to his zone while the AMI captain attempts to help the Claness up -- he makes it, but already he looks wobbly, surely he'll be targeted for breakage before the first period is completed.
Claness cringes, scowls, drinks ale.
Golden says, "OOOOOOH! Oh, that /had/ to Hurt! The game hasn't even started yet and he's already killing people! Holy Crap!"
Turtledove's eyebrow quirks, her eyes glued to the holoprojection, mouth opened slightly in disbelief.
. o O Turtledove thinks "Ouuuch."
Ghorev says, "Mister Golden," just quietly enough to be heard. "The game began the moment the announcers started announcing. Don't mistake the game for the game-within-the-game."
Idrani watches the wrestling eagerly, waiting until it is over before she manuvers back to her spot between Claness and Turtledove.
"I am a touch overwhelmed by it all, truthfully, Akeen. I got the distinct impression that, had The Prophets not had a hand in our mission, none of us would be here. As much as I love to take personal credit for certain matter, this exceeds me." Kusto's attention is pulled away by Medes' arrival and approach. That will work where keeping warm is concerned. He opens his furs up, offering Medes a space within them. "Join us, Alethea?" The opening match escapes Kusto's attention for the moment. He's supposed to play this sport at some point. There's no sense in getting cold feet now. Pun intended.
K'net-mauri lifts a brow at Idrani's t-shirt, but he doesn't comment on it. His smile widens a little, in fact, but only on the left side. Golden's exclaimation draws his attention to the holo-projection, though, and he grins at that. He steps out of the doorway, but he still doesn't seem to be quite in the room.
Golden nods to this clarification from the Commander as he watches the skirmisher lines deploying from the AMI and Claness zones to close on the puck in the center move from there toward the Ghorev zone and it's goal.
. o O K'net-mauri likes the Naked Co-ed Kocheck t-shirt. It's very funny. Not quite a laugh-out-loud funny, but a warm amusement. He's tickled.
The President cheers as the first period commences, commenting on the contrast of the mainly aging veteran Claness team and the fresh faced lads and lasses from the AMI.
Weave don'tblocktheholoimageaiee hurry steparoundpeople... "That was the general idea, yes, husband," Medes chuckles softly, pulling the hood of her sweatshirt up over her head and carefully tucking my earpiece-laden ear under said hood before joining as invited. "Hi, Boss."
Ghorev makes room for Medes. And says to Havaris, while doing so, "Some days are luckier than others. Whether that be becuase of Powers-that-Be or because our individual souls store up our own luck like /korelathi/ storing up fat for a winter nap .... some days I have more faith than others."
Claness takes this game very seriously. He's gripping his mug tightly, his body tense as he watches the AMI and the Claness advance on the Ghorev defense. "Fan out. 4-2 offense now. No...there you go....pass..pass!"
<CONTEST> Claness contests his Athletics (Kochek) skill vs Ghorev's Athletics (Kochek) skill (given advantage) and Fails!
The President responds to the Ambassador, "Yes Jon, it can be, but that is why it's called a little war. It's a sport where strategy isn't just about putting the puck in the net, but also attrition of the players from the opposing team. It's a battle that poses as a game posing as a battle."
<CONTEST> Kor contests his Athletics (Kochek) skill vs Ghorev's Athletics (Kochek) skill (given advantage) and Fails!
<CONTEST> Ghorev (claiming disadvantage) contests his Athletics (Kochek) skill vs Claness's Athletics (Kochek) skill and Fails!
<CONTEST> Ghorev (claiming disadvantage) contests his Athletics (Kochek) skill vs AMI's Athletics (Kochek) skill and Succeeds!
Havaris slips his arms around Medes once she's settled, getting the furs about her as well. It isn't until she's properly covered up that Havaris glanes aside at Ghorev and tilts his head to the side. "How about yesterday, Akeen? Much faith?" Havaris seems to be taking the Andorian's demeanor in stride, content to just be here and relax in the furs with the missus. Kochek optional.
Meridian nods in answer to the President's comments but says nothing, obviously not wishing to disturb the man further during the game. Instead, he leaves his hands in his pockets, keeping them warm, and stands at the President's side watching the game-battle.
Ghorev says, "In your Gods, mine, or something in between?" He shrugs. "I don't know. THe reflection hasn't started comin----" His eyes are drawn to the holograms. "Just a second."
Keth Claness moves effectively, their captain calling out plays just as a general would command his troops into battle. Thalev nods in appreciation, although he can't quite conceal his concern for his injured captain. Bodys crash and blood is spilled as repeatedly the Claness, together with the AMI, run hard into the ice wall that is the Ghorev defense. No score for the Claness team, though, as Ghorev holds the line.
Medes tucks her head under Havaris's chin and curls up comfortably with him. Her eyes immediately half-lid; she's not so much here for the game, no. Thea listens to the conversation between Boss and Husband and seems oddly content, or possibly just out of it, still in that same sort of weird half-Zen, half-fugue she's been in since last night.
Idrani is very much into the game, fully immersed in the experience, as Andorians tend to do. She 'oohs' and 'awws' when the hard hits are delivered, clapping her appreciation for a particularly good pass or block. For once, an opportunity to put the Starfleet diplomatic officer away and just enjoy being Andorian.
Nolte is immersed in play herself, practically on the edg of her seat. Gives a chuff as Ghorev's line is unbroken.
Turtledove variably winces, sympathetically, and puckers her mouth in an 'ouch' expression, her eyes glued to the holoprojector.
Havaris lays his head atop Medes in such a way that he can rest it and still pay his attention to Ghorev. When the man decides to cease the conversation in favor of the Match, Havaris is obliged to do likewise. He glances to the holoprojection and squints a bit, raising an eyebrow at the impressive brutality of the game in progress. He does not nay say or express dubious concern. He actually gets into it more than a little.
Big. That summarizes the men of Ghorev. Wide. That, too. Cry 'Opratha' for them, lads, for the *are* the line. Like any solid wall they are, alas, not too quick. Indeed, it's kind of odd for those less familiar with the Ghorevs is an up-close-and-personal way to realize that Commander Akeen Ghorev is, for his people, lanky rather than bulky, and quick as a raptor. So perhaps Our Man Ghorev is shifting in his seat a little, the way a human would watching his favorite boxing match, his body twisting to and fro as the solid hits are made, as if in their shoes he'd hit harder, or at least dance to one side faster. The stylistic differences cease to matter as they hold the charge, but then become glaringly important again as their rock solid play style causes them to miss what could have been a scoring maneuver -- the Claness are just too quick for them to breach right in turn, at least as long as their own reserves of energy and unbroken limbs hold.
Turtledove eyes the Ghorev team wall with thoughtful interest.
. o O Turtledove resists the urge to glance at Ghorev.
After the initial crash with the puck holding Claness and the Ghorev lines, the AMI team breaks into smaller clusters intending to capitalize on a sudden shift in opportunity, as the Ghorev's press a strike toward the Claness goal, a quartet of AMI youths cleat in on the ice and seize control of the puck, flinging it with the basket hook to another cluster that infiltrated the lines of the Ghorev as they moved forward on the Claness -- unfortunately the Ghorev lines fold back upon them crushingly, the puck pops free and is scooped up by a Ghorev striker...
Golden says, "Oh! Oh! They're out of position, they don't have enough behind, unless the Claness block out AMI zone...OHHHHHHHHHHHHH ouch... stiff arm clothesline right in the throat.."
Golden winces dramatically, turning his face away from the scene for a moment, but then, he can't help but look back..
Nolte murmmers to Turtledove, bright-eyed. "That's a common Claness tactic. I bet they knew it was coming."
Medes opens one eye all the way when Golden speaks, giving rather the impression of her lupine nickname as she peers out from under the curve of her hood. A brief murmur, then. "And Tak wanted me to /play/ this game? I'd never get /out/ of the Infirmary... "
Rosalev roars -- he claps Jon on the back -- he shakes his younger keth-mate by the neck -- he's having a delightful time and doesn't care whom knows it.
"How is Kochek scored, in the end, Akeen? Team with the least points scored against them wins, or the team with the most points scored against others?" Havaris has his ideas, of course, given the general timbre of the Andorian psyche. But he's hardly one to presume. Medes' murmur has Kusto rocking her back and forth in encouragement. Not to play Kochek. No. To not play Kochek. Yeeeees.
Claness watches intently as the action, and the violence, kick up a notch. "Okay now, keep them infront of you...get back! Get back! Get back!" Thalev screams at the AMI squad, his Andorian passion spilling over. Not to mention his ale.
Turtledove's eyes flick to Nolte, cheery confusion running rampant, but then, like most, she can't help but be drawn into the excitement. She gives Nolte a firm nod. "There's a great deal more strategy than I was expecting..."
K'net-mauri stands slightly apart from and behind the party. He watches the match and the audience as well, though the game itself does seem to hold the majority of his interest. It's chill in the room and he's dressed the same as he always is around the station, but he doesn't do anything about this but slide each hand into the opposite sleeve of his tunic, and go green at the tips of his ears.
And with a wild cry, that striker, Tranra Ghorev, moves forward, the same momentum that allowed him to tear it back from the AMI scorer bullying him forward towards the AMI line. "....who don't speak the language, it's rather appropriate that his name means 'Made of Frozen Tears', don't you think, Captain Dra?" asks the human celebrity commentator of his ANdorian counterpart as the broad young son of /keth/ Ghorev bullies right through the AMI line. At the very last second, just as they give enough to absorb his momentum, he leaps and flings and ...... GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAL!
Ghorev says, "Well, I'll be damned as a cheap tinker," with a sharp exhalation of breath he didn't even realize he was holding. "Someone should have taken my odds. They'd have made good money to spite me."
Claness doh's! Homer Simpson would be proud. Antennae drooping, Thalev quickly moves to refill his mug, grab a plate of munchies and get back to his furs before the match starts up again. On his way, he notes the presence of the Romulan Ambassador. "Uhm. Hello. Welcome. Please, enjoy our lodge." His mug-holding hand sweeps towards the ale and munchies. He offers K'net-mauri a subdued smile, then goes to sit back down.
Ghorev turns to Havaris. "I'm sorry ... you were asking something about scoring? I was caught up in the moment."
K'net-mauri gets uhmed at and smiles at Claness in response, an expression that's meant to be friendly and disarming. Not that his hawk's-face can ever pull off that combonation up to most people's standards.
"Yes," Havaris answers with an amused chuckle, "how is the game scored? Who wins? Team with the most points scored, or team with the least points scored against?"
Turtledove's eyes zoom back to the screen! In her excitement, she almost starts to clap.... but, glancing at Claness and Idrani, she thinks better of it, instead opting to glance at Ghorev with a delighted grin before turning back to the leaping and flinging and bone-bashing.
Ghorev says, "Combination of cold hard points and still-warm bodies."
Stewart comes in from the corridor.
Stewart has arrived.
Golden cheers as the brave Tranra scores first goal, but his reaction pales in comparison the holocast reactions in the stands on Andoria. His breath comes out as a vapor cloud inbetween swigs from his mug and bites from his plate of food.
Medes quietly pulls her head back for a moment and leans up to kiss Havaris on the cheek. That would be the 'don't be silly I have no intention of playing Kochek I like my major organs /inside/ my body and they tend to try to escape of their own accord anyway' kiss. Heavy on the subtext, these two. That said, she tucks her head back under his chin and goes back to half-watching and all cuddling.
"In what sort of combinations?" Havaris shows a small grin at the notion of scoring, facetious or no. He receives Medes smooch with a murmur of contentment, squeezing his arms tighter for a prolonged moment before relaxing back into the snuggling.
Nolte curls her hands about her knees, oh, troubling. Troubling indeed. She gulps some ale. Claness might as well pack it up. They have an Ivari fan rooting for them. It's probably contagious.
The remaining minutes of the first period become a back and forth clash of flesh and stick, some players are unable to rise from the ice and in the case of the AMI team, they compound their positional problems by actually details team-members off the field to the sidelines -- the cagey veterans on the other hand don't embraces such sympathies who goes down stays down and tries to get clear on his or her own as able -- it's between periods that they move off their crippled. Soon the first period closes with a score of Claness 0| AMI 0| Ghorev 1 -- the casulties are moved from the ice as the teams fall back into thier zone of control and commercials are interspersed with the commentary about the first period. It is the AMI's turn do defend in the second period and a smaller team in number musters forward to organize their defenses... the Ghorev and Claness sally forth toward the center to claim the puck and the second round of battle commences...
Ghorev says, "It's a point deal, mostly. But a team can be disqualified if, having become too much of a threat too soon, the other teams gang up on it enough to injure enough men into individual disqualifications. If a team can't stay on the field, it has to forfeit."
<CONTEST> Ghorev contests his Athletics (Kocheck) skill vs AMI's Kochek (Athletics) skill (given advantage) and Succeeds!
Stewart comes in late, taking a moment to look around the room. Once he's gotten an idea as to the situation, he heads towards where Medes, Havaris and (I'm told) Ghorev are sitting. He asks quietly, "Mind if I join you?", keeping his voice down so as not to disturb the other watchers.
<CONTEST> Ghorev contests his Athletics (Kocheck) skill vs AMI's Athletics (Kocheck) skill (given advantage) and Succeeds!
<CONTEST> Claness contests his Athletics (Kochek) skill vs AMI's Athletics (Kochek) skill (given advantage) and Succeeds!
<CONTEST> Ghorev contests his Athletics (Kochek) skill vs AMI's Athletics (Kochek) skill (given advantage) and Fails!
<CONTEST> AMI (claiming disadvantage) contests his Athletics (Kochek) skill vs Ghorev's Athletics (Kochek) skill and Fails!
<CONTEST> AMI (claiming disadvantage) contests his Athletics (Kochek) skill vs Claness's Athletics (Kochek) skill and Fails!
Oh, the horror! Or, the excitement! That all depends on what color the blood is that runs through your veins. Thalev Claness hasn't touched his plate of food, a feat that would usually require him to lose conciousness, as he armchair coaches Keth Claness as they and Ghorev use experience, size and power to put the AMI defenders back on their heels. After much maneuvering and close calls, as Ghorev and Claness battle for possession, a Claness striker is able to break free and charge towards the net. One leap and two spins later, he makes a diving shot....good!!!
Unfortunately, the Blue Wall Of Ghorev occasionally shows some wear as the period moves on. A few men are down, but the mass is ready to rumble. They slam and buckle and regroup and slam and ... well, you know. Mostly, however, they hold the line. They don't score again, but neither are they scored against.
The President is likewise cheering coaching instructions, his plate of food spilling as he roars in protest to Claness goal... he crows encouragement as the AMI captain gets the puck after a beautifully executed pass ... racing for the Claness goal, his blockers passionately deflecting intercepts from the opposing defenders, the groans in dismay as the Ghorev's "Snapper" flips from behind the Claness goal where he had been waiting in ambush and bends the AMI captain over his stick after it smashes into the younger captain. The Rimosi eats ice, then the Ghorev steps upon him on his way back toward the goal.
The period becomes a rowdier clash as the teams fight just AMI of center, sticks hooking, clubbing, parrying, poking, bashing and bloodletting... the 2nd period ends with a score of Claness 1 | AMI 0 | Ghorev 2. (Scoring as the defender you get the points all to yourself, scoring as the agressor you share your points with your "ally", in the 4th period you score only for yourself).
"Jimmy!" That would be an enthusiastic 'yes' toward Stewart joining, if Medes's tone of voice is any indication. "I heard you got a medal, you punk." She untucks her head from under Kusto's chin for a moment and stretches an arm up toward her cousin. "Congratulations."
The Half-time show then commences, featuring a dazzling Andorian mixture of extreme figure skating as a "floor show".
Claness whews, wiping his brow as half-time starts. He looks towards the Kor. "I don't know, Mister President. The AMI has much ground to gain if they hope to catch the Ghorev's."
Ghorev murmurs, idly, "It's the stomping. It's all in the stomping."
Golden says, "This is /nothing/ like the pick-up games at the Academy or the random ones my Andorian team mates back at 128th -- the intensity is amazing -- do these people have other jobs in the "off season"?"
Havaris is going to need more furs over here if people keep joining in. But he doesn't seem to mind, much, in Ghorev or Stewart's case. As long as he's warm? It's all good. Offering Stewart a congratulatory smile, he pipes up to answer in more or less jest, "Yes. Healing."
Turtledove's gloved hands release their tight grip of the fur in her lap. She grins at Nolte. "I think I've heard mention that you play this sport?"
Nolte says, "I broke five bones the first Kochek match I played. Bloody Rishin."
AMI says, "Ah well, I am hoping that in the 4th period the Claness and Ghorev will focus on each other and the boys will be able to capitalize on that."
Nolte throws a grin at Turtledove, adding, "Needless to say, I love it to the death of me. It's rather easy to get into once you're into a match, I think. For the hope of surviving.
Claness tisks, having heard that "we'll get them in the 4th" from a Kor ADF officer last week while the Ghorev's handed the elite of Andorian culture their heads...but he's too polite to say so to the President of the UFP. Instead, he drains the rest of this ale, eats all of his food and heads on over to refill both.
Ambassador Meridian, throughout all of this, has remained at the side of President Kor, slightly out of the way. He seems intoxicatingly intrenched in the holobroadcast, and feverently cheers for either side whenever he figures they have made a good play. He could of course, as a complete novice viewer of the game be wrong, but ever the diplomat, he seems uninterested (or uneducated enough on the subject?) to choose sides.
Stewart has come dressed in his parka, probably for the express purpose of avoiding large gatherings under furs. He nods to Medes, "Yeah, apparently so. Amazing, isn't it?" He then looks over towards the game, and asks, "Any idea what the game is about? About all I know is that Tak is a fan."
Turtledove's eyes are full and cheery as she nods to Nolte. "I wasn't expecting three teams." A sheepish confession, but it is delivered with ineffably quiet cheer. "So... this is half-time, then? Interesting... show..."
Ghorev watches the halftime show in the same subdued fashion in which he's watched most of the game thus far -- that is to say there's the occasional burst of energy surrounded by the lassitude with which he always treas affairs of the Lodge. He sits near Havaris and Medes, though outside the furs, in a half-crouch.
After the spectacular extreme skating, the commentators add, "Federation President Rosarev Kor wanted to be here today we are told, but apparently he put Galactic Peace as a priority before the Championships." The other commentatory responds, "One wonders if such would have been the case if the Kor team had made it to the championship match." They chuckle, "Still I'm told he's watching on a special priority one feed out at Station 149. We hope you are enjoying the show Mister President and all our best to you and all the Kochec fans out there on the border. Now, it's the Taiga Experience...." The feed focuses down on a bandstand where the very popular Andorian blues band, Taiga Experience launches into their hit song, "Eyes of Ice, Heart of Fire".
Nolte says, "This would half-time, yes. All in all, it's been a fairly low-casualty match up. Pitching the big against the young, it works out all right. Can I get you a drink, ensign?""
"It's /Four/ *One* Nine, you big blue dingleberry!" Kusto plucks up a convenient pillow and tosses it through the holofeed, disrupting the face of the offending commentator. And before anyone can throw something back, Havaris lifts a hand defensively and notes, "I may not get into Kochek, but I am an /animal/ regarding my color commentary!"
Medes retracts her arm after a moment, curling back up against Havaris and clearing her throat a little bit as she does so. "Not really. Amazing, that is. You have the capability and all." She rolls her shoulders and gestures toward Ghorev. "Ask the Boss. All I know is I might end up in the Infirmary just thinking about playing."
Claness grabs one of everything from the buffet table, then somehow manages to perform a one-handed refill of his mug. Happy with his refreshment situation, Thalev heads back to his spot just in time to have a pillow wiz past him. He looks to Havaris and laughs. "That, Lieutenant, is why you are a natural for the sport." Claness appreciates passion. And accurate pillow tossing.
Turtledove's eyes shift around a bit, as if unsure that Nolte is addressing her, but the moment passes quickly, and she gives Nolte a grin and nod. "Sure. Thanks. Actually. I'll come with you."
Nolte hops up to stand. She is remarkably resistant to the cold, and wearing a very light dress. Offers out her hand for a help up. A grin to Turtledove, "Have you ever played?"
K'net-mauri does not eat or drink. He does shiver a little, though, lacking both a parka and a welcome place in any under-fur gathering. Either the holobroadcast is fascinating enough for him to forget the temperature, or he likes the punishment. He doesn't seem to be distracted from the broadcast, though. Even the announcer recieves the force of the Romulan's attention, though the source of the thrown pillow recieves a glance. (New BB message (19/23) posted to 'IC Reports' by Report Tracker: Completed Report #496 (Greetings))
Turtledove takes the hand, standing lithely. "Never." She grins broadly. "Takamura is absolutely enamoured with the game, though." She grins, following Nolte.
"Kochek means Little War or similar. Or so I've been told. It's played in a three sectioned ice field where each team's territory sort of meets in the center. It's a four period game. Each team takes turns being on the defensive against the other two. Then there's a grand melee in the fourth. Opponents can be brutalized out of play. They wrestle before the game to see who defends first, which apparently plays into advantage in the fourth period. When you are on the defensive, your goals are your own. When on the offensive, your points are shared with your allies. People die in the game with some regularity, I'm told. Oh, and Claness wants me to play. I imagine I would be rather good in the gaps." Havaris is not, in point of fact, against the notion.
Nolte heads along with Turtledove, pulling two generous glasses of ale from the keg. "With good reason, I think. I suppose it might seem a bit... rough, overall. It's really quite invigorating, once you're in the battle, though. And generally you are fighting for great personal honour." Hnour. With a u.
The president gets up now that it's half-time, and after first taking a trip to the refresher he goes into the sleeping area coming out with a fabulous Blue Taigha Bear fur coat, this is folded over his shoulder as he prepares a plate of food and a mug of ale, then he approaches the Romulan. "Ambassador, please, accept the coat with my regards, then accept the food and the drink as part of our hospitality. Why don't you come and join Ambassador Meridian and myself closer to the match?"
Meridian at least seems to be enjoying the half-time show, but takes a moment to follow the President with his eyes as he goes over to talk to what can only be the Romulan Ambassador.
After the first song, while the crowd applauds the band, the announcers interject, "Our sincerest Apologies, that was station /419/, not 149. We are sure that 149 is a fine place, but.. well, not the home of the galactic summit. We here a ASN live up to our mistakes so we're sending an official 2373 Kochek Championship match tunic to each crewmember as our way of saying thanks and sorry. And now, back to Taigha Experience..."
Dovoro also takes advantage of the halftime break, hopping up and heading over to refill her mug of Endilev and to get herself a plate of food.
At the announcement, she turns and glances over her shoulder at the holoprojector. "Did he just say...?"
Havaris raises both of his fists in victory as the Announcers own up to their mistake. He pumps his hands in the air, taking full credit for this gift since he threw the pillow. That's right.
Stewart chuckles at Havaris, saying, "Ahh... so it's essentially an excuse to get out on the ice and have a great big brawl? Wait, sorry. A great big brawl in which points are awarded?" He shrugs, adding, "No wonder Tak's always in such dire straights to find players. I don't imagine they last very long."
Turtledove's hand wraps around the glass of ale, her eyes flicking to the beverage somewhat briefly, then responding in friendly cadence to Nolte, "It's brutal. I think I'm starting to like it." She lifts the ale slightly, other hand supporting the bottom of the glass. She smiles. "What do you mean by fighting for personal honour?"
Ghorev says, "Yes," dryly. "Apparently, the folks at One-Four-Nine are getting tunics to make up for being mistaken for us. Or something like that."
K'net-mauri turns his attention to Kor when the President approaches him. He tilts his head to one side about two degrees and looks at the man, curious and intent. There's nothing hostile in the look, just a long interested inspection of something new. When it's done K'net-mauri smiles a little. "Thank you," he says gravely, bowing his head a bit. "It has been a long time since I have had the oppourtunity to get well and truely cold. But I was begining to wonder just how long this game is likely to go." A glance towards the projection, "Were I you, I'd prefer it last some time." The smile warms a little at that. Evidently he's enjoying the game. He moves to join Kor and Meridian.
Dovoro glances over at Ghorev and frowns. "I thought he meant *we'd* be getting them..." She resumes gathering food, frown still in place.
Claness nods at Dovoro. "I think we will be getting them. 149 always gets the good breaks. It is time 419 got our dues."
Meridian overhears the commentators comments and chuckles lightly as he seems to have not caught the earlier mistake regarding the station name. He is new here himself, obviously. Seeing the Romulan Ambassador approach, he removes his hands from his pockets momemntarily and bows ever so slightly in hello. "Ambassador K'net-mauri, I presume?" His voice is slightly professional, yet jovial, given the current atmosphere. He takes his lead from the President, after all.
Medes tucks herself in a little closer to Kusto and peers up at Stewart for a moment. "Really, you should be right at home, then, Jimmy. Fighting, and points scored as a bonus. It's in the blood, and all, hm?"
Claness takes a moment to scan the room, a content smile on his face as he sees the collection of friends, family, peers and politicians. All is in harmony in the lodge. Good.
Havaris seems to have a thought occur to him. "Wait a minute." He reaches for another pillow. "Those Tunics will be going through the Quartermaster's office!" Kusto flings another pillow through the feed, apparently enjoying this ability to throw things around in a socially acceptable manner. He winds up muttering something about paperwork and a crew of hundreds.
Nolte says, "Well, you see." She begins, taking a ssip of ale. "Teams tend to be aligned with a place in society. Your keth, which is akin to...nationhood, brotherhood, and ethnicity all in one, region, such as Fimdari, or sometimes an institution, like the Military institute. So how, say, Claness team represents is of deep personal intrest to any Claness. Because it's -them- fighting the war too."
And then it's time for the 3rd Period... team AMI and team Ghorev are moving toward the center while the Claness team, depleted somewhat by the first two periods muster thier defensives lines. The President, once Meridian has the Romulan in hand, stops by Ghorev and croches beside him, and hand on his shoulder, he looks at the game, at the younger man and then about at the Andorian's here with them. He doesn't say anything outloud, just the look, then a squeeze on the shoulder before he resumes his own seat -- just in time for the action to start in earnest!
Dovoro nods to Claness and finishes filling up her plate, then starts making her way back over. "Been a rather good match so far. AMI might be in trouble unless they... ooh, game's back on!" She hurries the last few steps and seats herself again.
K'net-mauri nods to the human, still smiling rather vaguely. "You presume correctly," he says. "And you are Ambassador Meridian." No question there. "Good evening." He sniffs at the fur of the coat silently and rather thoughtfully before he slips it over his shoulders.
<CONTEST> AMI contests his Athletics (Kochek) skill vs Claness's Athletics (Kochek) skill (given advantage) and Fails!
<CONTEST> Ghorev contests his Athletics (Kochek) skill vs Claness's Athletics (Kochek) skill (given advantage) and Fails!
Meridian responds, still in his same jovial tone, "That I am, Ambassador, that I am... A pleasure to finally meet you."
<CONTEST> Claness (claiming disadvantage) contests his Athletics (Koachek) skill vs AMI's Athletics (Kochek) skill and Fails!
Stewart nods to Medes, "Yeah, you'd think. I'm just not sure it'd be kosher for me to play. Besides, I also suspect they don't make allowances for combat at long ranges." He settles in, finding an angle where he can watch the game when it interests him, but for the most part his attention is directed to the others seated nearby.
<CONTEST> Claness (claiming disadvantage) contests his Athletics (Koachek) skill vs Ghorev's Athletics (Kochek) skill and Fails!
<CONTEST> Claness (claiming disadvantage) contests his Athletics (Kochek) skill vs AMI's Athletics (Kochek) skill and Fails!
<CONTEST> Claness (claiming disadvantage) contests his Athletics (Kochek) skill vs Ghorev's Athletics (Kochek) skill and Fails!
K'net-mauri isn't jovial. His deep voice is pleasant, friendly and good-humoured enough if not actually cheerful. "Likewise, Ambassador. And my apologies if I have been inconvienently unavailable."
Ghorev starts to look up at the president, but the man is already on his way and the game is starting. Oh, look, Team Ghorev immediately goes in for the hard hit and score. There's the hard meaty *thwack* of muscle on muscle as a Ghorev offensive man slams hard into one of his Claness counterparts, both men tumbling over and sliding on the ice. It's clear by the angle of the fall that at least one man landed at a bad angle, the kind of angle that even the flexibility of Andorian bone-cartilege cannot absorb. But who .... who?!?
A Graleen chant can be heard from the stands surrounding the field. "Wall! Wall! Wall! Wall! Wall!.." Most of Keth Claness is fast and athletic, but their defenders are mounds of flesh and muscle. Even being down players in key positions, Claness is in its element as they stand against the repeated charges of the Ghorev and AMI squads. Out of the tangle of limbs and cleats, the Claness defensive lineman staggers to his feet, grunting hard as he passes to a speedy striker. Claness is able to take the offensive, but they are simply too few in number to be able to press the attack effectively. The period ends for Keth Claness with no ground lost, no ground gained.
Meridian nods, his gaze now focussed back on the screen. "Not to worry, Ambassador, I have had a fairly full schedule myself, catching up on the affairs of the station, and of this post, as I'm sure you can appreciate. I have yet to meet two of the other Ambassador's, Ambassador Lux and Ambassador Zuh'raah'do... to be honest, I haven't even yet met the commanding officer of this station.
The third period ends with no score, but the highest number of casulties so far -- the young AMI team was torn between the prospect of not wanting to add another score to the Ghorev tally but desperately needing to put up some point for themselves. As they prepare for the 4th period they are faced with the fact that they need to score on both teams and deny any scores on their own goal which as proven to be the fainting maiden in this championship match. As the teams prepare to muster for the final fourth period, the Ghorev's claim the puck in advance having won the wrestling match at the commencement... it is no longer the little battle at stake but the little war!
Current Score: Claness 1 | AMI 0 | Ghorev 2
Golden spends the third period cheering and wincing, each particularly mighty impact causing him to jerk in his seat. Consumed by the game he makes little conversation that doesn't relate to the on field action.
K'net-mauri blinks at that brutal play. He likes the violence and his interest in the game is obvious. Now that he's closer to the holograms he moves his head a bit as he watches the action. "Hm," he replies to Meridian. "Indeed, I can appreciate that. Lux is somewhat difficult to find of late. One might almost believe him remiss." The Romulan toys with the food he was given, tastes it distractedly. The coat he appreciated, but deep in his greeny-black racist heart he doesn't want to eat with these people. But he'd rather eat than face the inevitable reassurance that nobody is trying to poison him, or give the insult that rejecting a plate served him by the Federation President himself might be.
<CONTEST> Claness contests his Athletics (Kochek) skill vs AMI's Athletics (Kochek) skill and Succeeds!
<CONTEST> Claness contests his Athletics (Kochek) skill vs Ghorev's Athletics (Kochek) skill and Fails!
<CONTEST> Ghorev contests his Athletics (Kochek) skill vs AMI's Athletics (Kochek) skill and Succeeds!
<CONTEST> Ghorev contests his Athletics (Kochek) skill vs Claness's Athletics (Kochek) skill and Succeeds!
<CONTEST> AMI contests his Athletics (Kochek) skill vs Claness's Athletics (Kochek) skill and Fails!
<CONTEST> AMI contests his Athletics (Kochek) skill vs Ghorev's Athletics (Kochek) skill and Fails!
Final Score: Claness 2 | AMI 0 | Ghorev 4!
With the AMI team lacking in experience *and* numbers, Keth Claness is able to move in quickly for a score. "Yes!" Thalev can't sit still as he wathes the action, his Andorian blood boiling as the drama of violence on a deadline unfolds before his very eyes. "Now we need to hold them..." he says with a near-growl.
"And there is a Catskill eagle in some souls that can alike dive down into the blackest gorges,and soar out of them and become invisible in the sunny spaces. And even if he flies forever within the gorge, that gorge is within the mountain, so that even in his lowest swoop, is still higher than the other birds upon the plain, even though they soar." Or something like that. It's a Terran author anyway, so who cares. It is here, in the free-for-all, that the Catskill /alirith/ of Team Ghorev dive down into the blackest gorges, for in the press of pandemonium, they show their full measure of hard, powerful brutality. With body snapping savagery, they deny the Claness their wish -- two more AMI boys go down as that goal is delivered, and then, almost immediately, on sheer momentum ..... the puck is driven home past the Claness wall. The Claness rally, they push back, they deny the bobbling puck the goal the first time, and begin driving further back, but then, almost immediately, the line-behind-the-line takes over, and in a spirit at once both noble in self-sacrifice and black in self-mortification, the Ghorev team plows forward over its own downed men, and *right through the Claness* to bring the final goal of the game in. It's all over but the shouting now, the AMI would need too much to win.
Meridian nods in response to the Romulan, but says nothing more. It is not really the time to be discussing politics.
K'net-mauri is content not to discuss politics. Or anything at all, for the moment. This savage Andorian ritual is really very fascinating.
Havaris stirs inside of the furs and offers Medes a squeeze. "I think that's it for me. I wanted to get back to the temple. And I need to see if the jumja sticks are finished curing. Feel free to stick around, of course. I wouldn't want to deny you that." He gives Medes a smooch and Ghorev a pat on the shoulder as he pushes his way up to his feet. Offering waves to the here and there's, Havaris folds up his arms and walks briskly for the exit. Because it's cold in here, durnit.
Dovoro breaks out in cheers and clapping in admiration of the sheer power and force of the Ghorev team.
Ghorev says, "Now *that* is what I meant," as he rises from his crouch, having perched in that fashion like a gargoyle for some tie. "The stomping. The stomping is key. But the grabbing and the elbows are not so distant a second and a third."
"Probably not," Medes quietly admits to Stewart, before tucking one of her hands under the left side of her head. Once Havaris is up, though, so's she, offering a quiet, "See ya, Jimmy. Hail me, okay?" and a "Bye, Boss," to the likely rather distracted Ghorev, and she explains to Kusto on her way out, "Shift starts soon."
Shaft has arrived.
GAME: Shaft is joining this location.
Claness doesn't hide the disappoint in his eyes as the clock ticks down to 0. He doesn't like to lose, but is a firm believer in the sport being larger than the man. Quickly his expression returns to the one with an ever-present silly grin on it. He applauds as well, letting loose a cheer for the Ghorev's and their win as well as for the AMI and Keth Claness. "Good match." He looks towards Cmdr. Ghorev. "Good match!" he says again, with more passion.
Stewart remains where he is for the moment, nodding back to Medes, "See you, and you know it. We need to meet up and grab coffee soon." And now he folds his arms over his chest and looks around the room, watching the people more than the post-game.
"Peldar Joi, everyone! Wonderful hospitality, as usual, and a most invigorating competition. Prophets guide you!" Havaris offers Stewart a dip of his head before leading Medes out, accepting her explanation for departure.
Idrani goes home.
Ghorev says, "A most excellent match," he agrees, with a nod. "Well played on your side. Those AMI youngsters had better learn fast, however."
Dovoro leans over and claps Ghorev firmly on the shoulder. "Your team played a hell of a match, Akeen Ghorev. Quite impressive."
Meridian looks over to Ghorev, and states in a cheerful, congratulatory tone, "Yes, Commander, excellent match!'
"Peldar Joi," appends Medes to Kusto's statement, then nods to her cousin emphatically on the way out. "Yep, Jimmy. Consider it done. Except it isn't done yet, but it will be done. You know, that's really a stupid saying. Anyway. I'll hail you." And so she follows Havaris out.
K'net-mauri nods to the departing view, absently. He doesn't seem to have much to say, wrapped up in some contemplation of the event.
Medes heads out.
Medes has left.
Havaris goes home.
Havaris has left.
Claness nods to each person as they depart, thanking them for coming. He then heads towards the sleeping chamber. "It is time for me to catch up on some reports for Fimdari Command. Today is an official ADF holiday, but I'd rather do reports than cry in my ale." The big Andorian winks, then he departs.
Claness enters the sleeping area of the lodge.
Claness has left.
Ghorev says, "Thank you. The next time my brother Degras asks me why I didn't take up the sport professionally instead ofjoining Starfleet, I'll point out the carnage today."
